Come on, don’t be dramatic. We’ll let you join dessert.
Something in me snapped.
I stood, walked back to the front desk, and slid my card receipt across the marble counter.
“I’m the one who paid for all five rooms,” I said quietly.
Noah glanced at the receipt, then at the reservation screen.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I took a slow breath and leaned closer.
“Cancel every room that hasn’t been used past tonight,” I said. “Starting tomorrow morning, they’re on their own.”
He blinked. “Are you sure?”
I glanced toward the elevator, imagining Ethan laughing, raising a glass with the family that had spent years teaching him I would always swallow the insult, smooth things over, and keep paying.
