Chapter 5 - THE LOBBY RECKONING
At 10:15 PM, I walked into the grand marble lobby of the Pacific Bay Resort holding Lucas and Paige by their hands.
The lobby was stunning, lit by massive crystal chandeliers with floor-to-ceiling glass windows looking out over the dark Pacific Ocean. But the peaceful luxury of the atmosphere was currently being shattered by the loud, hysterical voices of the Lawson family gathered around the front desk.
Shirley was leaning over the marble counter, waving her designer handbag at a young front desk clerk who looked visibly overwhelmed.
"What do you mean my card was declined?!" Shirley shrieked. "We have stayed at this resort for three years! My husband is Walter Lawson! Call your manager immediately!"
Lance was standing near the luggage carts, surrounded by four massive suitcases, arguing furiously with a security guard. "I left my expensive watch inside that room! You can't just lock me out of my room!"
Walter sat on a velvet sofa near the center of the lobby, clutching his chest, looking red-faced and utterly humiliated as hotel guests walked past, whispering and staring at the scene.
Courtney was pacing near the elevators, desperately dialing her phone. When she spotted me walking through the sliding glass doors with Lucas and Paige, she stopped dead in her tracks.
"Brandon!" she yelled, marching across the marble floor toward us.
I immediately stepped in front of my children, shielding them behind my back.
"Don't raise your voice around Lucas and Paige, Courtney," I said in a calm, dangerously quiet tone.
Courtney stopped two feet away from me. Her eyes were red, her makeup was smeared, and she looked completely exhausted.
"How could you do this?" she whispered, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief. "You locked my brother out of his room! You canceled my parents' executive suite! The front desk just told us that all incidental charges have to be paid by us!"
"I didn't lock them out, Courtney," I replied smoothly. "I simply removed my credit card from their accounts. If Lance wants to stay in a four-hundred-dollar-a-night oceanfront room, he can put his own credit card down. He's forty-one years old."
"He doesn't have four hundred dollars right now, Brandon! You know that!" Courtney cried out.
"Then he can sleep in the lobby or take a bus home," I said without a flicker of emotion. "That is not my problem anymore."
By now, Shirley and Mindy had noticed me. They stormed across the lobby like a pair of hunting hawks, their heels clicking loudly against the polished marble.
"You ungrateful, malicious coward!" Shirley spat, her face contorted in rage as she reached us. "You ruined my husband's 70th birthday! You humiliated us in front of the entire restaurant! We treated you like family for ten years!"
I turned my eyes onto my mother-in-law, looking at her with such intense, icy focus that she actually took a step back.
"You treated me like a bank, Shirley," I said clearly, my voice carrying across the quiet lobby. "You took my money, you took my flights, you took my hotel rooms, and then you treated my children like stray dogs who weren't worthy to sit at your table."
"They're children!" Mindy interjected, her voice shrill. "They didn't need to sit in the front!"
"Your children sat in the front, Mindy," I pointed out, gesturing toward her two teenagers who were sitting on a bench playing on their phones, completely unbothered. "Why did your kids deserve the ocean view while mine were hidden behind a concrete wall?"
Mindy opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She looked at Courtney, expecting her sister to step in and defend her.
Courtney looked at me, her tears finally overflowing. "Brandon... please. Just put the rooms back on your card for tonight. We can talk about the divorce or whatever you want tomorrow. Just don't do this to my family in public."
I looked at Courtney, then looked past her at Walter, who was watching us from the sofa with a look of defeated shock.
"No, Courtney," I said softly. "The free ride is over. For all of you."
I turned to the night manager who was standing quietly near the elevator bank, holding three new gold digital keycards.
"Mr. Miller," the manager said respectfully, stepping past my in-laws. "Your penthouse suite on the 12th floor is ready. We have already moved your luggage upstairs, and we placed a complimentary fruit basket and fresh juice in the room for the children."
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"Thank you, David," I said, taking the keycards.
I took Lucas and Paige by their hands and walked toward the private penthouse elevator, leaving Courtney, her parents, her brother, and her sister standing stranded in the middle of the crowded lobby.
