Chapter 16 - The Boston CallWhile the financial world reeled from the sudden, catastrophic collapse of Vanguard Holdings, life in Boston continued at its quiet, steady pace.
It was a crisp Saturday evening, and the lobby of The Beacon Hotel was warm and inviting.
Sloan Mercer was standing behind the front desk, sorting through reservation folios for the weekend rush, when her cell phone buzzed against the marble counter.
She glanced down at the screen. An unknown Manhattan number.
She almost let it go to voicemail, but something—a lingering instinct from her old life—made her swipe the answer button and bring the phone to her ear.
“Hello? This is Sloan.”
“Hello, Sloan.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
The voice was unmistakable. Calm, deep, steady, and carrying memories of a life she had burned to the ground with her own arrogance.
“Darren?” she whispered, her fingers tightening around the edge of the front desk so hard her knuckles turned white. “How… how did you get this number?”
“It’s not hard to find someone when you know where to look,” Darren’s voice came through the line, smooth and unhurried.
Silence stretched between them for several long seconds. The hum of the hotel lobby faded into a vacuum.
“I heard about what happened on Wall Street today,” Sloan said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “Julian Vance’s entire empire… wiped out in thirty minutes. Everyone in the financial district is talking about it. They’re saying it was the most brilliant corporate counter-strike in a decade.”
“They talk too much,” Darren replied simply.
“Why are you calling me, Darren?” she asked, a lump forming in her throat. “Are you calling to gloat? To remind me of where I used to be and where I am now?”
“No,” Darren said, his tone softening just enough to pierce her defenses. “I’m calling because I heard you turned down a promotion last week.”
Sloan blinked, surprised. “How could you possibly know that?”
“I keep tabs on the properties my firm invests in,” he said mildly. “Including boutique hotels in Boston. The regional director says you wanted to master front-desk operations before taking on management.”
“I did,” Sloan said, her chin lifting instinctively. “For the first time in my life, I want to learn how something works from the ground up, Darren. I don't want things given to me because of a last name or a corporate title. I want to earn them.”
A quiet, approving pause came from the other end of the line.
“Then you’re finally learning the right lesson,” Darren said softly.
“Darren… wait,” Sloan called out before he could hang up.
May you like
“Yes, Sloan?”
“Are you ever… coming to Boston?”
