"Remember," Celeste told Altha, "we are not walking in to claim that a document automatically makes forty years of litigation disappear. We're here to preserve the original evidence and prevent a questionable sale from destroying the ability to seek justice. The truth needs to survive tonight, whatever anyone says about it." Altha nodded.
"I've waited forty-two years," she replied. "I can wait for the law to finish its work. What I won't do is be turned away before it begins."
They entered through the main doors together. The chandeliers illuminated the same marble floor, the same brass luggage carts, and the same polished reception desk. Julian saw Altha first. He stood straighter but did not look frightened this time; he simply inclined his head and said, "Good evening, Dr. Monroe." The sound of the title made a few nearby guests turn.
Miriam came beside him and addressed Altha with quiet warmth. "Welcome back," she said. Altha touched her arm, grateful for the courage in two ordinary words. There were employees watching from the service corridor and guests who recognized the face from videos circulating in the past few days. None of them had expected the woman to return so soon, accompanied by an attorney rather than a security escort.
Preston noticed the change in the room before he saw its cause. Conversations began breaking off near the lobby doors, and one of his security supervisors approached with a strained expression. When the supervisor said Dr. Monroe had entered the building, Preston lowered his glass so quickly that liquid spilled onto his cuff. His pleasant expression dissolved, replaced by the unmistakable fury of a man who believed his commands had stopped being obeyed.
"She's banned," he said. "Remove her before the investors see." The supervisor hesitated, explaining that a court order had been served concerning the historical records and that counsel was present. Preston pushed past him, furious that someone had dared mention legal restrictions as though they applied to him. He reached the lobby just as Altha was approaching the grand staircase.
"You again," he said, loudly enough for people near the ballroom doors to hear. "How many times must I tell you this isn't your hotel?" Altha stopped and faced him without raising her voice. "Once would have been enough, Mr. Vale, if it were true. But it wasn't true when you said it on Tuesday, and it isn't true now."
Guests turned fully toward them. Several recognized the elderly woman from the recordings and raised their phones, though others simply watched with growing uncertainty. Preston glanced at the cameras and attempted to recover his polished manner. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry for this interruption," he announced. "This individual has a personal fixation on our company and has been advised to seek appropriate assistance."
"I sought a room," Altha replied. "I paid for it. You refused to look up my reservation, and when your own employees recognized me, you threatened their jobs." Her tone remained conversational. "Now I'm asking you to respect a lawful inspection of the building's historical records. If your position is as secure as you say, there's no reason to be frightened of paper."