What Happened After She Blocked The Hotel Not Realizing I Owned It?

“Sorry, but due to the holiday, we’re overbooked. Your reservation has been canceled. Here’s a fifty-dollar voucher as compensation.” The hotel front desk clerk handed me a voucher with a perfunctory tone. I looked at her coldly. Then, I looked at the man next to her, who had just arrived. He had not even shown his ID, yet the clerk respectfully handed him a presidential suite key card. “Why can he check in without even showing an ID? Meanwhile, my room, which I booked a full week in advance, was canceled without explanation. And all I get is a lousy fifty-dollar voucher?” The front desk clerk let out a scornful laugh as she walked up to me. “Because he’s Mr. Ludwig, the heir of Grandview Group! His family owns the entire hotel. Do you think it’s just a matter of one room? If he wanted the whole hotel emptied out tonight, we’d do it. Who do you think you are? “If you keep standing here causing trouble and getting in his way, I’ll have security drag you outside and beat some sense into you. Now, get out!” Two security guards stepped forward. They grabbed me by the hair and roughly pulled me toward the door. My scalp hurt badly from the pulling, and my clothes were wrinkled. The front desk clerk’s shouts trailed behind me. “Next time, stay in a motel. People like you can’t afford to travel on a holiday.” I looked at the hotel’s grand entrance. Instead of shouting, I let out a quiet, exasperated laugh. The heir to Grandview Group, huh? They probably did not know that their lofty heir was right in front of them, and that he was being humiliated by their staff. Since they refused to serve guests decently, only catered to people with status, and did not think twice about hurting and humiliating their other customers, this hotel might as well shut down.

On Mother's Day, I take my mom to a hotel under my company for a vacation. We've just sat on a leather couch in the lobby for a short while when the supervisor-in-training, Jacob White, rushes over angrily and yanks us up to our feet. "This couch is meant for the guests who have applied for a VIP membership in this hotel! For broke tourists like you, you're welcome to stay in a cheap motel! Don't leech off the cool air generated by our air conditioners here!" My brows are knotted into a frown instantly. I'm about to declare my identity when Jacob shows me a bill and demands that I pay 1,500 dollars for a meal here. My expression goes dark immediately. "We've just arrived at the hotel, and we barely even have a sip of water here. Why should we pay 1,500 dollars for a meal here?" Jacob rolls his eyes at me before rapping his knuckles on the counter in an arrogant manner. "Those who stay at this hotel must pay this sum! We're serving fancy food here, you know! It's your business to consume it, but regardless, you still have to pay up!" Unable to endure Jacob's antics anymore, I tell him to call the manager over. But he sneers at me before pointing at his name tag. "This hotel belongs to my godsister! I'm the one who calls the shots in the entire lobby! No one can help you this time, regardless of who you lodge a complaint to!" I stiffen up on the spot. I'm the only son in this family, and my relatives never meddle with my hotel businesses. Who the hell is this so-called godsister that has usurped my position as the owner?

The hotel calls me on the phone and tactfully reminds me that since I've forgotten to pay for the condoms I've used last night, they've deducted the sum from my VIP card. I'm a little perplexed, to say the least. Last night, I've taken on an overnight shift till late night, so I've never been to the hotel. So, I question my wife, Nyla Burdette, who's the only one that knows about my VIP card number. She just looks at me in confusion. "Honey, it costs over a thousand dollars to spend a night in that hotel! Why would I stay there, to begin with? There must be something wrong with the hotel's system!" I no longer waste my breath on Nyla. My oldest uncle, Eric Fuller, is the investor of that particular hotel, so I call him right away. "Uncle Eric, help me investigate who Nyla has taken to the hotel last night! I want to catch them in the act!"

When the new intern, Felix Madden, hears that I'm going back to my hometown for the Thanksgiving weekend and won't be home in my fully paid-off luxury lakeview apartment, he goes out of his way to cozy up to me. "Come on, Carl. Your place is going to be empty anyway. Why not let my parents stay there for a few days during the holiday? It'll save them the cost of paying for a hotel," Felix says. Worried that my belongings might be tampered with, I politely turn him down. His expression darkens slightly, and he mutters under his breath, "Fine. If you won't lend it to me, I'll find my own way." I don't think much of it at the time. Then, on the first day of the holiday, the property management company sends me a message. They inform me that a group of strangers has entered my building using my access code and appear to be heading to my unit. My heart sinks to my stomach. Something is very wrong. I've only ever shared my access code with my closest family members. There is no way an outsider could know it. The next thing I see is Felix's social media post. The photo shows him and his entire family relaxing in my apartment. The caption reads, "Spending Thanksgiving in a luxury lakeview apartment. Life is good. If you work hard enough, you can enjoy this kind of lifestyle too." Not once does he mention that the apartment belongs to me. Instead, he deliberately makes it look like he owns the property himself. Quietly, I save every piece of evidence. I save the security camera footage and make screenshots of his social media posts. I don't throw them out, nor do I expose them—I simply wait. By the final day of the holiday, they've thoroughly enjoyed themselves and start packing up without a care in the world. As they prepare to leave, they are dumbfounded.

Someone @'d me on Nextdoor. "Hey, penthouse girl. You're single. What do you need a whole rooftop garden for? My husband's throwing a party. We'll be needing it starting tomorrow." "Don't worry, we'll give you two hundred bucks a month for upkeep. You'll make a couple hundred for doing jack shit. You should be thrilled." I stared at the screen. It was a joke. I was Don Ricci's heir, groomed to run the South Side. But I traded that life for a paintbrush. This apartment was my sanctuary, my quiet place. That rooftop garden wasn't some building perk. It was mine. I'd paid half a million cash for the deed when I bought the place. I turned it into my sunroom studio. And now someone thinks they can have it for two hundred bucks a month? I replied with two words: "Dream on." I didn't expect the building manager and two security guards at my door the next day. Someone had filed a complaint about me "misusing community resources." And now, for the sake of "neighborly harmony," they were demanding my keys. Fine. They wanted to throw civility out the window? They were about to learn what real power felt like.

My father-in-law, Noah Quinlan, and I go on a vacation together. After checking into the hotel, we decide to swim around in the hotel's swimming pool. But a well-dressed man shows his disdain toward us outright while pinching his nose. "This is a high-class hotel! Ugh, why are there all sorts of people here? Don't tell me you two secretly snuck in just to use the pool! "I'm really scared of catching any infectious diseases just by sharing the same pool as you!" That man's words instantly spoil the mood for Noah and me. I reply coldly, "The hotel's swimming pool is meant for public use. Anyone who stays in the hotel has the right to use it. If you can't accept that fact, you might as well have one built at your home." The man is so angry that his brows are all scrunched up. He retorts furiously, "How dare you talk to me like that! Don't you know that my wife is the owner of this hotel? The fanciest suite here belongs to me all year round! "I order you to get lost right now! What if your poorness dirties the pool water? How disgusting!" Noah and I exchange looks immediately, soon noticing the coldness in each other's eyes. My wife, Zara Quinlan, is the one owning this hotel. Since when has she become another man's wife?