Chapter 8 - Echoes of the Past
As the gala’s opening speech concluded to warm, enthusiastic applause, I stepped off the stage and walked toward the quiet terrace overlooking the illuminated city skyline. The cool evening breeze carried the faint sounds of soft classical music and polite conversation from inside.
I leaned against the glass railing, taking a sip of sparkling water.
“Thinking about six months ago?”
I turned my head to see Alexander stepping out onto the terrace, holding two crystal flutes. He handed one to me with a knowing smile.
“Not particularly,” I smiled, clinking my glass against his. “Though I admit, the contrast is nice.”
“You know,” Alexander said, looking out over the city lights, “father would have been proud. You didn't just protect the family business; you saved its soul. Hotels aren't just buildings made of marble and glass. They’re places where people stay when they’re away from home. If the staff aren't treated like family, the guests will never truly feel welcome.”
“It took a little bit of champagne to figure that out,” I joked, touching the collar of my blazer.
Alexander laughed—a rich, genuine sound. “Well, let’s hope we never need that particular teaching method again.”
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a text message from an unknown number.
Curious, I opened it.
It was a single photo attached with a short message. The photo showed a dimly lit, modest cafe somewhere on the outskirts of another state. Sitting at a corner table in a plain, unbranded jacket, looking exhausted and broken, was Vanessa Cole.
The text read: She's working as a cashier now. Thought you might want to know.
I stared at the screen for a long moment, feeling neither anger nor pity. Just a profound sense of closure.
Vanessa hadn't been destroyed by me, or by Alexander, or by the internet. She had been destroyed by her own relentless arrogance—by the belief that the world owed her everything while she owed humanity nothing.
I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket, not even bothering to reply.
May you like
“Everything alright?” Alexander asked, noticing my silence.
“It’s fine,” I smiled, looking back toward the warm, brightly lit ballroom where Maria and our team were laughing and greeting guests with genuine hospitality. “Everything is exactly as it should be.”
