Chapter 2: The Name on the Contract
I called Victoria the next morning.
Then I hung up before the first ring finished.
I sat behind my desk, staring at her number.
“What are you afraid of?”” Naomi asked.
She was standing across from me with two coffees.
“That answering will make everything worse.””
Naomi put one cup down.
“Worse than your mother announcing your death while you’re alive?””
I looked at her.
“That’s not funny.””
“It wasn’t supposed to be.””
I picked up the invitation again.
The handwriting bothered me.
Victoria hadn’t written, Sorry you can’t attend.
She had written, Please come.
More importantly, she said she wanted to finally meet me.
That meant Daniel had mentioned me.
So when had I supposedly died?
Before the engagement?
After?
Had my family invented an entire fake history?
My desk phone rang.
I jumped.
Naomi glanced at the screen.
“Grand Meridian.””
I answered.
“Claire Bennett.””
“Ms. Bennett, this is Marcus Ashford.””
I sat straighter.
Marcus Ashford.
Victoria’s father.
Owner of Ashford Hospitality Group.
And, technically, one of my biggest clients.
“Good morning, Mr. Ashford.””
“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.””
“No.””
“Excellent. I wanted to discuss the renewal.””
I opened the contract file on my laptop.
Our current agreement covered six properties and was worth just under four million dollars annually.
“We’ve been extremely pleased with Bennett Facility Solutions,” Marcus said.
“Particularly the turnaround at the Meridian.””
“Thank you.””
“I’d like to expand.””
“To which properties?””
“All of them.””
I stopped typing.
Ashford Hospitality owned seventeen hotels.
“Seventeen?””
“Possibly nineteen by next year.””
That contract could change my company.
Not just financially.
It could mean another hundred jobs.
New regional offices.
A national footprint.
“I’m interested,” I said carefully.
“I thought you might be.””
Then Marcus chuckled.
“And perhaps we can discuss it at the wedding.””
My stomach dropped.
“The wedding?””
“My daughter’s.””
I stared at Daniel’s invitation.
“I’m aware.””
“Of course. Daniel mentioned your family has had a difficult few years.””
There it was.
I forced myself to breathe normally.
“What exactly did Daniel tell you?””
Silence.
Only two seconds.
But it was enough.
Marcus’s voice changed.
“Perhaps I misunderstood.””
“Mr. Ashford.””
“Yes?””
“What did my brother tell you about me?””
Another pause.
Then he said, “That’s probably a conversation you should have with Daniel.””
The line suddenly felt cold against my ear.
“I’d rather hear it from you.””
Marcus hesitated.
“He said his older sister Claire passed away.””
My eyes closed.
“When?””
“About five years ago.””
Five years.
Apparently my family had given my fictional death a date.
“How?””
“I don’t think—”
“Please.””
His voice softened.
“A car accident.””
I almost laughed.
Instead, I looked through the glass wall of my office at dozens of employees moving through the operations floor.
Five years ago, I had landed our first hospital contract.
While my family was apparently mourning me, I had been working sixteen-hour days.
“Ms. Bennett?””
“I’m here.””
“I apologize. I seem to have said something upsetting.””
“You haven’t.””
“Then I’m confused.””
“So am I.””
There was a knock on my door.
Naomi entered holding a folder.
Her expression was strange.
I motioned for her to wait.
Marcus continued.
“Daniel never gave us many details. Victoria asked about his family early in their relationship. He said Lauren was his only surviving sister.””
My chest tightened.
“And your daughter believed him?””
“Why wouldn’t she?””
Exactly.
I thanked Marcus and ended the call without telling him the truth.
Not yet.
Naomi immediately placed the folder in front of me.
“You need to see this.””
“What?””
“The wedding venue.””
I opened it.
The Ashford wedding wasn’t being held at a church.
It was being held at the Grand Meridian.
One of the six hotels my company serviced.
Naomi tapped the second page.
“And Daniel requested a private event-services package.””
I scanned the document.
Additional housekeeping.
Overnight sanitation.
Ballroom turnover.
Restroom attendants.
Post-event cleanup.
All provided by Bennett Facility Solutions.
I stared at her.
“My brother hired my company to clean his wedding?””
“Not exactly.””
She turned the page.
“The hotel hired us. Daniel probably has no idea.””
Of course he didn’t.
That was almost funny.
Almost.
Then Naomi pointed to the staffing request.
“Look at the VIP notes.””
I read them.
The groom’s family had requested that all visible cleaning staff use service corridors whenever possible during guest arrival.
No carts in public spaces.
No uniforms near photography locations.
And beneath that was an additional note.
*Groom specifically requests cleaning personnel remain discreet due to high-profile attendees.*
My jaw tightened.
Naomi folded her arms.
“You could cancel the extra staffing.””
“No.””
“You could refuse the event.””
“No.””
“You could attend wearing your inspection uniform.””
Despite myself, I smiled.
“That would be petty.””
“Extremely.””
I closed the folder.
“We fulfill the contract perfectly.””
Naomi studied me.
“That’s it?””
“That’s it.””
But it wasn’t.
Because at 2:17 that afternoon, my personal phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A woman spoke.
“Claire?””
I recognized the voice from videos Daniel had posted.
Victoria.
“Yes.””
She inhaled sharply.
“Oh my God.””
I stood.
“What?””
For several seconds, Victoria said nothing.
Then she whispered, “You’re alive.””
There was genuine shock in her voice.
Not acting.
Not manipulation.
Shock.
“Apparently,” I said.
“Daniel told me you died.””
“I know.””
“I don’t understand. Why would he—”
A door slammed somewhere on her end.
Victoria abruptly lowered her voice.
“I can’t talk here.””
“Victoria—”
“I found something.””
“What?””
“Your name.””
My pulse quickened.
“Where?””
“In Dad’s office. On the hotel contracts.””
I looked toward Naomi.
Victoria continued rapidly.
“Claire, Daniel told us you cleaned houses. He said you struggled with money before the accident. But Bennett Facility Solutions—”
She stopped.
Someone had entered the room.
I heard Daniel’s voice in the background.
“Who are you talking to?””
Victoria didn’t answer him.
“Victoria?””
The line went quiet.
Then Daniel spoke again, closer this time.
“Give me the phone.””
A scuffle.
“Daniel, stop.””
“Who is it?””
“None of your business.””
Then silence.
Three seconds later, Daniel’s voice came through my phone.
Very softly.
“Claire?””
I didn’t answer.
His breathing changed.
“Claire, listen to me.””
I stared at the wedding invitation on my desk.
“What?””
For the first time in my life, my brother didn’t sound superior.
He sounded afraid.
“You need to stay away from Victoria.””
“Why?””
“Because you don’t understand what you’ll ruin.””
Then another voice appeared behind him.
Older.
Male.
Marcus Ashford.
May you like
“Daniel,” he said, “who exactly are you talking to?””
And the call went dead.
