Chapter 7 - MY BROTHER’S PRICE
Andrew denied everything.
Naturally.
Grant called him from Charleston at sunrise.
“Prescott says you’re involved.”
Silence.
Then laughter.
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it?”
“William just got arrested. He’ll say anything.”
“Did you invest in Palmetto Waterfront Development?”
“No.”
“Through a trust?”
“No.”
“Through Caroline?”
Andrew stopped.
Caroline was his wife.
Grant closed his eyes.
There it was.
“You used Caroline.”
“Grant—”
“How much?”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“How much?”
Silence.
“Eight percent.”
Grant stood.
Maya was outside with Evelyn.
Good.
He didn’t want her hearing this.
“You were going to destroy my hotel.”
“Our hotel.”
“No.”
Grant’s voice hardened.
“My company.”
“Our father’s money started it.”
“Our father gave me one loan.”
“And gave you control.”
“I built the company.”
“And I stayed in your shadow.”
Grant laughed bitterly.
“So this was jealousy?”
“No.”
“Then explain it.”
Andrew exploded.
“You own everything!”
“I own sixty-two percent because I spent twenty-three years building it!”
“And I get invited to board meetings like some distant cousin!”
“You never wanted operations.”
“Because you never gave me authority!”
“You wanted dividends.”
“I wanted respect!”
Grant went silent.
There it was.
Money rarely came alone.
It brought resentment.
Pride.
Old wounds.
“You used employees.”
Andrew said nothing.
“You let Mercer fire Rebecca.”
“I didn’t know about her.”
“You helped create the scheme that required silencing her.”
“I never wanted anyone hurt.”
Grant laughed without humor.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Grant—”
“A thirteen-year-old girl was hungry outside our hotel.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
The sentence ended whatever remained between them.
Grant became very calm.
“Everything.”
He disconnected.
Andrew was arrested later that afternoon.
The story broke nationally.
HOLLOWAY HOSPITALITY EXECUTIVES INVESTIGATED IN MULTIMILLION-DOLLAR FRAUD SCHEME.
Grant’s photograph appeared everywhere.
Some headlines implied he knew.
Others questioned whether the company could survive.
Stock in affiliated holdings fell.
Reservations canceled.
Board members panicked.
Grant held a press conference.
His attorneys begged him not to.
He did it anyway.
Cameras filled the ballroom.
Grant stepped to the microphone.
“My company failed.”
Reporters erupted.
He raised one hand.
“Not because every employee failed. Most did not.”
Silence returned.
“But because systems I was responsible for allowed dishonest people to hide.”
He explained the investigation.
The arrests.
The safety audits.
Refunds.
Vendor reviews.
Then he said Rebecca’s name.
“Rebecca Carter discovered the fraud before I did.”
Maya watched from a private room upstairs.
“She attempted to warn me.”
Grant’s voice tightened.
“I never received her warning because people inside my company intercepted it.”
He paused.
“Rebecca died before I learned the truth.”
The room became completely silent.
“Her work may have prevented millions more from being stolen and, more importantly, may have prevented unsafe maintenance practices from eventually hurting guests or employees.”
He looked into the cameras.
“Sterling Harbor owes her.”
Then he did something his communications team had not approved.
“So do I.”
Questions exploded.
Grant walked away.
That evening, he found Maya sitting on the hotel rooftop terrace.
“You said Mom’s name.”
“Yes.”
“On TV.”
“Yes.”
“She would hate that.”
Grant smiled.
“Why?”
“She hated pictures.”
He laughed.
Then Maya asked:
“Are you going to lose the hotel?”
“Maybe.”
Her face changed.
“Because of Mom?”
“No.”
He sat beside her.
“Because of people who stole.”
“Can you fix it?”
“I’m trying.”
She looked toward Charleston Harbor.
“My mom loved this hotel.”
“I know.”
“She said someday we’d stay here.”
Grant swallowed.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Too expensive.”
That sentence hurt in a new way.
Rebecca worked inside a luxury hotel she could never afford to experience with her daughter.
Grant stood.
“Come.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
He took Maya downstairs.
Suite 1401.
Harbor view.
One of the finest rooms in the building.
He opened the door.
Maya stared.
“What?”
“Your mother wanted to stay here.”
“She’s dead.”
“I know.”
Maya’s eyes filled.
Grant suddenly wondered whether he had made a mistake.
Then Maya entered.
She walked toward the windows.
Charleston glittered below.
“My mom would’ve liked this.”
“Yes.”
Maya pressed one hand against the glass.
Then she cried.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
For the first time since Grant met her, she cried like a child.
Grant stood uncertainly.
He was not a father.
Had never been.
He didn’t know what thirteen-year-old girls needed when grief finally broke through.
Then Maya turned.
And hugged him.
Grant froze.
Slowly, he put his arms around her.
“She waited for you.”
“I know.”
“She thought you didn’t care.”
“I know.”
“She was wrong.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Maya cried harder.
“She would’ve liked you.”
That nearly broke him.
“I wish I’d known her.”
For several minutes, neither moved.
Then Grant noticed something outside the window.
Across the street.
A man standing beside a parked vehicle.
Watching the hotel.
Grant’s instincts sharpened.
The man raised a phone.
Took a photograph.
Then got into the vehicle.
Grant memorized the license plate.
He called Sarah.
Twenty minutes later, agents identified the vehicle.
Registered to a private security company.
One client.
Palmetto Waterfront Development.
Andrew’s investment partners.
The arrests had not ended the conspiracy.
May you like
Someone still wanted the hotel.
And they had just photographed Grant standing beside Maya.
