As Lupita walked back with the vase, Karl leaned over to Patrick, whispering in a tone he thought was completely private: “This is exactly why you don’t give the cleaning staff too much leeway… they start thinking they own the place.”
Clara snapped her eyes up to meet his.
And in that moment, nobody in the lobby could have guessed who the woman in the faded leather jacket truly was…
Clara took the crystal vase from Lupita’s hands, her touch gentle and deeply appreciative. “Thank you, Lupita. You have no idea what this means to me.”
“It is my pleasure, ma’am,” Lupita said softly, smoothing down her apron. “Suite 904 is on the quietest corridor. I’ll make sure extra soft pillows are brought up for your daughter.”
As Lupita turned to head back to the service elevator, Karl leaned against the marble counter, casually twirling an electronic keycard between his fingers.
He slapped the keycard onto the polished desk with an unmistakable air of condescension.
“Here’s your key,” Karl said, his voice dripping with bored indifference. “Elevators are to the left. The corporate gala starts in twenty minutes, so please try to keep the hallway quiet. Our high-profile guests expect a premium experience.”
Clara didn’t reach for the keycard.
