“Your schedule will remain as before.”
Thanking her, the built man turned and headed out the door. Francois exchanged a silent look with Nyah and did the same.
The room felt smaller once they were gone. My ears pounded, and my throat felt raw. She hadn’t directly called me out, but everyone in that room knew who’d done it. I’d never been embarrassed like that—paraded in front of staff.
“That was humiliating and unnecessary,” I said, standing and slamming my hands on her desk. “Parading these employees in front of me—you could have just discussed it with me in private, in my office. Youknowthis is a good idea for the hotel, and if it doesn’t work with the existing staff, we could have worked together and hired new staff. But this... this... production! Are you opposed to all new ideas, or is it just mine?
“I can’t believe you,” Nyah snapped, standing to face me. “I tried subtlety. I tried being direct. I thought showing you how your actions impact real people might open your eyes. I mean, I didn’t expect an apology, exactly, but some kind of acknowledgement of your own mistakes...”
She came around the side of the desk and stood facing me, arms and heels crossed.
“It’s not your ideas that are the problem—it’s your execution. You’re out of touch, Caleb. You don’t stop to think about other people. You’re a rich, self-centred man who has no idea how the real world works. You’re so impressed with your own ideas, but so blind to your faults; otherwise, you would’ve consulted with Francois to see how your changes would affect his staff.”
She took a step towards me and said, “Maybe it would be better for everyone if you just go back to your stuck-up club and surround yourself with entitled celebrities and bootlickers because that’s what you seem to enjoy.”
Each word hit like a slap. Self-centred. Out of touch. Stuck-up. I’d heard it all before from my father, but coming from Nyah, it hit me hard. She didn’t know me. She thought she did—and that was unbearable. The women in my life had always told me what I wanted to hear. This one... was different. Rage burned through me, my veins tight beneath my skin.
“Out of touch?” I scoffed. “You’re the one out of touch with upscale clientele. You’ve really got a chip on your shoulder, haven’t you—bowing and scraping to rich people every day? You never wanted to give me a chance—I saw that the morning I arrived. Because I got your dream job, didn’t I? Instead of helping me implement positive change, you’re deliberately holding me back to prove a point to my father.” I moved slowly towards her. “You’re judging me not on who I am, but how much I’m worth. And now I know why. You’re jealous of me, jealous of my job, jealous of my money.” Even as the words left my mouth, something twisted uncomfortably in my gut—but pride shoved it down.
“I’m jealous of you?” she spat out. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“You’re not fit to be an employee here,” I said, matching her tone. “You’re fired. Don’t bother coming back on Monday.”
The moment the words landed, a sharp thrill rushed through me—power, clean and intoxicating. Finally. A line drawn.
“You cannot fire me,” she snapped back. “You don’t have the authority. Only your father can do that.”
“Oh, you’ve got my father wrapped around your little finger, haven’t you?” I said, twirling my finger. “What did you do to become GM of this hotel exactly... especially with yourexperience? Women like you love using men to gain power, and that’s exactly what you’ve done to my father. Short skirt, soft voice, a little bit of perfume and a shy smile. You’re a waitress, Nyah! Go back to the diner where he found you.”
The room felt electric—volatile. I was too far in to stop now.
“Youare a spoilt and ungratefulbrat. You haven’t earned the title of being aman.” She stepped toward me. “You throw temper tantrums like a child. You think you know me, but have no clue who or what I am. You are a selfish, arrogant, and stubborn teenager who cares about no one but himself. You are not the owner of this hotel. You are not even an employee right now.”
Her words cut deep. Not because they were loud—but because part of me recognized echoes of things I’d tried not to hear before. “You cannot speak to me like?—”
“Who the hell do you think you are? What doyouhave that isyours? You think I’m jealous of your money? The wealth you enjoybelongs to your father. You haven’t earned a single penny with your own two hands, and you surely don’t know how to respect it. You accuse me of using my appearance to get up in life, yet that’s all you’ve ever done. The models you’re photographed with, the girl-band starlets—to them, you’re a handsome face and an Amex Black card. But one day, when your looks fade, and Daddy closes the chequebook, you won’t seem nearly so appealing.”
My chest seized. This was spiralling. Too personal. Too close to truths I refused to examine.
“You will be an empty shell of a man with nothing to show for yourself. How despicable and disgusting do you need to be to think of me as someone who uses men? You should take a good, hard look at your life and realize how many women are usingyouand wrappingyouaround their fingers because you are ‘Randall’s son.’”
I felt my cheeks burn with shame. Hot, undeniable, and humiliating.
“Do not, and I repeat, donotspeak about me in that manner ever again.” She marched out of her office, slamming the door.
The sound echoed long after she was gone. I stood in her office, unable to believe what had just happened. My hands were still clenched as my heart raced. And for the first time since walking into this hotel, I wasn’t certain I’d won anything at all.
7
NYAH
Iclosed my eyes and forced myself to breathe deeply, slowly, the way I had been taught.
I could feel the tension vibrating through my body, my chest tight, my jaw clenched.I can’t do this anymore. It’s either him or me.This hotel was not big enough for the two of us.
I went home early, telling Amy I would see her on Monday. She didn’t question me or press for details. She just looked at me with concern and said, “Drive safe and take care.” I was grateful for that small mercy.
I held off on making the call to Randall. Instead, I paced around my apartment with my arms clasped behind my back, my thoughts circling endlessly. The task of straightening his son out felt impossible, and I knew if I let this situation ruin my weekend, I would resent it even more. I decided to leave the repercussions of our argument to fate.
