“They grabbed my arm like I was a thief. The lobby went silent when she jabbed a finger at me and hissed, ‘Call security on her!’ I tried to speak, but the guard tightened his grip. Then the elevator chimed. A man in a tailored suit stepped out, eyes locked on mine. Someone whispered, ‘Now the billionaire’s here.’ His gaze didn’t waver—like he knew me. And that’s when the real nightmare began…”
They grabbed my arm like I was a thief. The Fairmont Crest lobby was all chandeliers and quiet judgment. A security guard clamped my elbow, steering me toward the doors while Victoria Grant—sleek blazer, colder smile—stood behind the front desk. “She’s trespassing,” Victoria said, then jabbed a finger at me. “Call security on her!” “I’m…