Chapter 7

The morning came anyway.

The sun dragged itself over the brick wall outside her window, filling her apartment with a pale yellow light she had grown to hate. She had not slept. She had lain awake most of the night, running through the possibilities: losing the job, losing her savings, losing the small, stubborn life she had built.

At seven, she forced herself out of bed, showered, dressed in her second-best vest—the one with the slightly faded collar—and drove to the hotel.

The staff entrance was quieter than usual, the late-morning lull before the lunch crowd. She swiped her badge through the door and walked down the concrete hallway to the housekeeping office.

The night manager was already there, a cup of coffee in her hand. She looked up when Sasha walked in, and there was something guarded in her eyes.

"The recommendation has been withdrawn," she said.

Sasha stopped. "What?"