Abiy Hotel

Then my father’s voice came from a distance in the corridor, tired and weak: “Mara, please. Open the door. Let’s talk.”
​I put my hand on the lock, but I didn’t turn it.
“You’ve had your chance in the ballroom.”
He said, “I was shocked, I didn’t know she was going to say that.”
“But you knew how to talk.”
​Celeste interrupted in a sharp tone: “Richard, stop begging her. She’s bluffing.”
I said, “I’m not bluffing.”
I could hear her breath right now, fast and furious.
​“The Halston Meridian Hotel is going to the revocable Lora Vance Halston Trust. The transfer was activated as soon as my birthday came, and it was done for the final night. The land instrument is registered, the operations account is transferred, and the reserve fund is no longer available to Richard Halston, Celeste Halston, or any entity controlled by either of you.
​Celeste has calmed down, but in a different way this time.
It wasn’t a shock, it was a calm calculation.
​My father whispered: “Mara, the salaries of the employees on Friday.”
I said, “Yes, and the employees will be paid.”
He asked, “What about the luxury concert contracts?”
​“It will be adhered to.”
​“Renewal loan?”
​“Reviewed.”
​Celeste was the first to regain his balance, and she said, “You little witch. You waited until tonight to humiliate us.”
“No. I have waited twenty-eight years to see if my father will choose me without being forced to do so.”
​No one answered.
​I opened the magic eye cover for the door. My father was standing in the aisle in his suit, and his tie was hanging and open. He looked older than he was in the afternoon. Celeste stood next to him and the mascara was stained under one of her eyes, and the diamond neck was clearly shining in her neck. Behind them, the security of the building was waiting near the elevator.
​As she lowered her voice, Celeste said, “You have to regain control before morning. Do you know what would happen otherwise?”
“Yes. Your son’s management contract will be cancelled.”
​Her facial features have changed completely.
That was the real wound and the fatal stab.
​Preston, her thirty-two-year-old son, worked as a hotel consultant for sixteen thousand dollars a month while living in Miami and not even responding to emails. Celeste was planning to appoint him as chief operating officer after my father’s retirement, and she had even printed his business cards.
​She said, “You have no idea how to run a business.”
“I know enough to read the bills.”
​My father closed his eyes.
Celeste looked at him and said, “What are these talking about?”
​I passed a file under the door, to settle at her shoe.
I stood up and said, “Start on page six. The supplier named Silverline Hospitality does not exist in the address mentioned. But he received eight hundred and forty thousand dollars from the hotel in fourteen months. The account holder is linked to Preston.”