Chapter 13
I changed the hotel security structure.
Not because Room 17 existed.
Because family access had been too informal.
Fiancées.
Cousins.
Old advisers.
Everyone moved through private spaces based on relationship.
That ended.
No spouse or relative automatically gained archive access.
No bloodline key.
No inherited hotel authority.
Rafe loved the clarity.
Older relatives called it cold.
Fine.
I also opened Room 17.
Not publicly.
Internally.
The archive no longer depended on one boss deciding who could know family history.
Sensitive pieces stayed protected.
But service records, old contributions, promises, and branch histories could be reviewed by the people they directly affected.
Secrets had allowed Leonard’s grievance to mutate.
Access might prevent the next version.
Then I found something personal.
A note from my mother.
Damian hates naps.
I laughed.
Theo looked exactly like me.
Apparently sleep had always been a family conflict.
Then another line:
If Patrick ever turns him into a little soldier, I will haunt both of them.
My mother had threatened posthumous intervention.
Fair.
I showed Theo years later.
Not now.
For now, I kept the note.
May you like
Not secret.
Just mine.
