Chapter 5

The ugly truth about those top executives badmouthing the female president was finally exposed.

"Unbelievable! Miss Sinclair is the rightful heiress of the Ashford family! What were they thinking?" Jason, the president's secretary in the passenger seat, was so furious his face flushed crimson.

"Oh, stop with the 'rightful heiress' talk. That's ancient history. I don't care, so why are you still hung up on it?"

Isabella smirked, reaching out to pinch Jason's cheek, turning it even redder.

"Isabella, you're the future CEO of K Group. Shouldn't you act more presidential? Stop teasing Jason like that."

Caspian frowned slightly.

"What's the problem? Male bosses flirt with their secretaries all the time, but I can't even touch my male secretary's face?"

Isabella arched a brow, amused. "Besides, he should be thanking me!"

Caspian just shook his head, his gaze softening with fond exasperation.

Meanwhile...

The executives swarmed around Isabella and Caspian as they entered the hotel.

Vice President Keith Porter led them toward the elevator, but Isabella casually remarked, "I want to inspect the restaurant first."

No greeting, no pleasantries—straight to business.

Keith swallowed nervously as he guided President Ashford and her entourage to the buffet area.

Caspian remained composed, letting his sister take charge.

It wasn't lunchtime yet, so the restaurant was empty, but staff were already setting up the food.

Isabella's sharp eyes swept over the spread before locking onto the seafood section.

She rolled up her sleeves, plunged her hand into the tank, and plucked out a dead shrimp from the hundreds swimming inside.

"Explain."

"Th-That shrimp isn't dead—" Keith stammered.

"Not dead? Then why don't you eat it?" Isabella challenged, smiling sweetly.

"President Ashford, with so many shrimp, it's normal for one or two to die—"

"It's normal for shrimp to die. But if a customer eats it and gets food poisoning, will you still call it normal?"

Her smile vanished. "Also, there are exactly 356 shrimp in this tank. I counted. Five are dead, and at least thirty are barely alive. I don't know how guests would react to finding that in their $30 meal, but personally? I'd never come back. Dispose of all the seafood immediately and find a new supplier. If I see one dead shrimp at tomorrow's lunch, I'll personally serve it to you."

Keith paled. The executives gaped.

Only Caspian and Jason knew Isabella had a photographic memory. As a child, she'd even helped solve a major crime case with her keen observation. Counting shrimp was child's play for her.

Upstairs in the guest rooms, Isabella took a white handkerchief from Jason and wiped it along the walls and picture frames.

"Subpar cleaning. There's dust. Do it again."

The executives looked ready to collapse.

"You're thinking I'm being nitpicky, aren't you?"

Her tone turned icy. "But these 'minor' issues could ruin a century-old hotel. If the star-rating committee found these problems, we'd lose our accreditation!"

She gestured to Jason, who ordered, "Open this room."

The head of housekeeping fumbled with the key. Previous inspections had always been staged—two pre-cleaned rooms for show.

But President Ashford didn't play by their rules.

Isabella strode in, inspecting the bathroom first, then the bedroom. She sat on the bed—and her expression darkened.

She said nothing, ending the inspection abruptly before heading to the general manager's office with Caspian.

11:26 AM

"So, what's your verdict?" Caspian asked with a faint smile.

She flopped onto the sofa, propping her elbow on the armrest. "A complete disaster. Is Emeric testing me or mocking me? This place is a dump. Is this really an Ashford property?"

"Isabella, Grandfather built this hotel. The Ashford empire started with hospitality before expanding into what K Group is today."

His voice softened. "This hotel isn't a failure—it's a legacy. But with so many ventures now, and the hospitality industry struggling... we've neglected it."

His gaze turned apologetic. "You'll have to work miracles."

That's when Isabella noticed the grand piano in the corner.

Her breath hitched.

"I had it brought in. I remember you used to play when you were upset. Or you'd go riding."

Caspian smiled. "You'll be too busy for horses these next two months. But when you need a break, play something. You were always brilliant at it."

"Thanks. But I haven't played in years."

Her throat tightened. An old wound, long scarred over, throbbed anew.

"What happened?" Caspian tensed.

"Field medic work. Ligament damage in my pinkie during a rescue. It didn't break, but it's useless now. Can't span octaves anymore. So... I stopped."

She kept her tone light, but the ache lingered.

Caspian's heart clenched. He took her hand gently.

"Was it... because of Thaddeus?"

"Yes. And no."

Hearing that name still hurt like hell, but she forced a radiant smile. "I got injured for world peace. That's something to be proud of."

Five years ago, on the war-torn fields of Snis, she'd found Thaddeus—the man she'd loved and lost.

He was a peacekeeper. She was a medic.

She'd nearly lost her hand dragging his wounded body to safety.

Back then, she'd called it honor. Now, her numb finger only brought pain.

But that was the past. Even if she'd loved the wrong man, she refused to drown in regret.

Just then, Jason hurried in.

"Miss, I found what you asked for. Our hotel's bedding and some furnishings are supplied by Vintage Elegance. Mr. Keith handled the contract."

"Vintage Elegance."

Isabella crossed her legs, eyes glinting dangerously. "Get me the hotel's financials for the last two years. Then cut ties with Vintage Elegance and find a new supplier."

Caspian arched a brow. Such a drastic move?

"Vintage Elegance is owned by Thaddeus's brother."

"Ah. Personal vendetta," Caspian and Jason said in unison.

"No! Their products are trash. They sold us cheap bedding, so I'm holding them accountable," Isabella insisted.

The memory of that lumpy mattress made her seethe. Uncomfortable stays led to bad reviews—no wonder their ratings were plummeting!

"There's more," Jason added. "You asked me to monitor the Abernathy situation. Hamilton just had a stroke. He's hospitalized—at our Ashford Medical Center!"

11:26 AM

"Hospitalized?!" Isabella shot to her feet, panic flashing in her eyes.

At that moment, Caspian's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and smirked.

"Isabella, it's your ex-husband."