Lobby presentation.
Guest flow.
Executive arrival preparation.
But halfway down the page was a section called Placement Considerations.
Beside it were handwritten codes.
Naomi pointed at them.
“What do these mean?”
Mara hesitated.
“V-one means visible.”
“Visible?”
“Guests they want near the lobby, restaurant entrance, main bar.”
“And V-three?”
“Put them somewhere else.”
Naomi looked at her.
“Based on what?”
Mara’s eyes filled with anger.
“Whatever management decides doesn’t match the image.”
“Clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Age?”
“Sometimes.”
“Accent?”
Mara looked down.
“Yes.”
“Race?”
Another pause.
“They’ll never say that.”
“But?”
“You already know the answer.”
Naomi folded the paper.
“Who created this?”
“Management says it came from Asterion’s brand consultants.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Not yet.”
Naomi looked at her carefully.
“Why risk your job?”
Mara’s expression changed.
“Three months ago, my mother came to visit me.”
Naomi waited.
“I saved for almost a year so she could have dinner at the rooftop restaurant. I made the reservation myself.”
Mara’s voice tightened.
“She arrived early. She was wearing the nicest dress she owns.”
“What happened?”
“They told her the reservation couldn’t be found.”
Naomi felt a familiar anger rising.
“Was it there?”
“Yes.”
“What did they do?”
“They seated her in the lounge downstairs and told her the restaurant had become private for the evening.”
“And had it?”
“No.”
Mara looked toward the floor.
“Two hours later, my manager joked that we couldn’t turn the rooftop into a bus station.”
Neither woman spoke.
Outside, a car horn echoed from the street.
Finally Naomi asked, “Why didn’t you report it?”
“I did.”
“To whom?”
“Human resources.”
“And?”
“My schedule changed the next week. Fewer hours.”
Naomi closed her eyes briefly.
There were many ways to punish someone without admitting they were being punished.
“Is that why you contacted me?”
“That was when I stopped being afraid.”
Naomi opened her laptop.
“Show me everything.”
For the next two hours, Naomi listened.
Not as an owner.
Not as an investor.
As a witness.
Mara described staff meetings where employees were told to identify “high-value visual guests.”
She described older couples moved away from windows because influencers had requested better tables.
She described families being told the lobby lounge was reserved when managers considered them too loud.
She described employees being instructed to offer complimentary services according to “brand compatibility.”
She described a front-desk agent who resigned after refusing to cancel a legitimate reservation.
Naomi stopped her.
“Whose reservation?”
Mara looked at her.
“Yours.”
Naomi’s hand froze above the keyboard.
“My reservation wasn’t cancelled by a computer?”
“No.”
“Who cancelled it?”
“I don’t know. But the morning team saw your guest profile.”
“What profile?”
Mara gave her a look Naomi would remember for a long time.
“That’s the part you need to see yourself.”
At seven the next morning, Naomi returned to the lobby.
She wore the same coat.
The same shoes.
The same simple clothes.
Roland was already there.
When he saw her, his expression suggested disappointment that the previous evening’s inconvenience had survived until morning.
“Ms. Reed.”
“Mr. Price.”
“I trust the room was satisfactory.”
“The heater sounded like a freight train.”
“I’ll have maintenance inspect it.”
“The lamp doesn’t work either.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Naomi looked around.
“Is breakfast included?”
“Not with the room you accepted.”
“My original reservation included executive lounge access.”
“Your original reservation was cancelled.”
Naomi nodded.
“Of course.”
She turned toward the restaurant.
Roland called after her.
“Ms. Reed.”
She stopped.
“Yes?”
“The restaurant is reserved for hotel guests.”
“I am a hotel guest.”
“I meant guests with breakfast privileges.”
Naomi looked directly at him.
“Do you personally supervise every guest this closely?”
The receptionist from the previous night glanced up.
Roland’s expression tightened.
“I supervise my hotel.”
Naomi smiled faintly.
“That’s an interesting choice of words.”
Before he could answer, a commotion near the entrance interrupted them.
An elderly man was standing beside two pieces of luggage, arguing with a concierge.
“My wife cannot walk that far,” he said.
The concierge maintained a rehearsed smile.
“The accessible entrance is located on the west side.”
“The taxi brought us here.”
“Unfortunately, this entrance has stairs between the lobby and the north elevator.”
“Then help us.”
“Sir, our staff are currently assisting arriving guests.”
Naomi looked around.