### Chapter 5: A Storm Within the Walls It was a suffocating silence that enveloped the boardroom, punctuated only by the hushed whispers of executive voices as they discussed Alyssa behind her back. The words floated through the air like a dark cloud, heavy with disdain and antiquated ideals. “How dare they speak of her like that? She's the Taylor family’s only daughter, the daughter of the first wife!” Sean Lynch, Alyssa’s passionate secretary, seethed with indignation, his loyalty evident in every tense muscle in his body. “Are they out of their minds?” Alyssa, however, was unperturbed. “Come on, Sean. That's an old-fashioned mindset. My lineage doesn’t define my worth. I couldn’t care less, so why should you?” With a sharp glance, she pinched his cheek playfully, igniting a flash of crimson on his cheeks. “Alyssa, you're destined to become the president of KS Group. Can you at least act with a modicum of dignity?” Jonah interjected, a frown creasing his handsome face. “Why shouldn’t I tease him? Big bosses have the right to have fun,” Alyssa retorted with a mischievous grin, relishing the banter. “Besides, it’s an honor for him to be touched by me!” Jonah merely shook his head, his gaze softening as he regarded his sister. Soon after, the executives began to gather, escorting Alyssa and Jonah towards the VIP elevator. However, Alyssa halted, her curiosity piqued. “I want to check out the restaurant first.” No sooner had they entered the expansive buffet area than Michael Grant, one of the VPs, looked like a deer in headlights. It was a ghost town; the absence of lunchtime patrons made the room echo eerily. A few waiters were gingerly setting out an extravagant spread, but Alyssa’s focus was laser-sharp. She darted towards the seafood station, her eyes narrowing as she inspected the glass aquarium. With a swift motion, she rolled up her sleeves and plunged her hand into the tank, retrieving a limp, lifeless shrimp amid the thrumming crowd of its living counterparts. “Explain this,” she demanded, her voice ice. “Uh, t-this one isn’t dead yet,” Michael stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. “Then it’s yours to keep since it’s not dead,” Alyssa shot back, her smirk biting. “Ms. Alyssa, as you can see, there are hundreds of shrimps. It’s normal for one to suffocate, right?” “Normal? Is it also normal for a guest paying three hundred dollars to end up with food poisoning?” Alyssa’s lighthearted demeanor evaporated, replaced by authority. “I counted 356 shrimp in total. Five are dead, and an alarming thirty are on their last breath. Guests here expect luxury, not to be left with tales of hospital visits. I want every shrimp attended to, and change the suppliers—immediately! If I see another dead shrimp when lunchtime rolls around tomorrow, you will be the one tasting it.” As she unleashed her wrath, the air felt thick, stifling Michael’s breath and leaving the other executives spellbound. Only Jonah and Sean knew the keen eye Alyssa possessed; her photographic memory had previously aided police investigations, making a handful of shrimp seem like child's play to her thorough scrutiny. When they arrived at the guest rooms, Alyssa snagged a pristine white handkerchief from Sean, wiping it carefully across the wall and a nearby picture frame. “This cleaning job is unacceptable—there’s dust everywhere. Re-do it,” she stated firmly. The executives exchanged wordless glances, their collective sighs echoing in the corners of the room. “I know you’re all grumbling in your minds, calling me excessive and nitpicky,” Alyssa commented, her tone calm yet authoritative. “But a hotel with a century-long reputation can crumble under the weight of neglect. If an inspector spots these details, we risk losing one of our stars.” With a knowing glance at Sean, she commanded, “Open the room.” The housekeeping manager quickly complied, knowing the usual façade for inspections wouldn’t suffice under Alyssa’s scrutinizing gaze. She stepped into the room, the air heavy with neglect. Her sharp focus zeroed in on the bathroom first before she plopped onto the bed. The instant her lithe form met the mattress, her expression darkened, a storm brewing behind her delicate features. “So… what do you think after your grand tour?” Jonah teased, attempting to lighten the palpable tension. “A complete disaster!” Alyssa replied with a huff, burying her face in her hands, frustration etched deep in her voice. “Is this a test? Am I being pranked by my father? This hotel is the worst I’ve ever seen! Does this business truly belong to the Taylors?” “Lyse, remember that Grandpa built this hotel from the ground up. A few years back, we wanted to venture into hospitality, which helped KS Financial Group flourish. This hotel isn’t just a disgrace; it holds historical significance for our family. But with our numerous business endeavors, we’ve turned a blind eye to its management,” Jonah confessed, frustration mingling with regret. “You’re going to have to help us unravel this mess.” Just then, Alyssa caught sight of a polished black piano resting in the corner, a gasp escaping her lips. “I ordered this be placed here. I know you indulge in playing to escape when moods run low. I recall you taking those long rides at the horse track to clear your mind,” Jonah remarked sweetly, his expression tender. “I realize you’ll be swamped for the next two months, so I thought this might serve as a release.” “Thank you, Jonah. It’s been ages since I’ve played,” Alyssa confided, a bittersweet smile breaking free but barely masking the tumult inside. “Is everything alright?” Jonah sensed something amiss, concern etching his features. “When I was a doctor, I hurt my hand while aiding a soldier. The ligament in my little finger tore—though it’s not broken, it feels nearly useless. I can’t stretch my fingers properly anymore; playing has become a distant memory,” she explained, a tremor betraying her poised facade. Jonah’s heart ached for her as he clasped her hand, examining it carefully. “Was Jasper Beckett involved in this injury?” “Yes and no,” Alyssa replied, a wave of pain crashing over her. Yet, with a brave smile, she added, “It was for a greater cause. I did this to make my family proud.” Five years had faded since she last saw Jasper, the man who had once filled her heart. Their brief reunion had been a harrowing encounter on the borders of Ksovia, where she served as a field doctor and he as a soldier, fighting for peace—their love a bittersweet reminiscence of valor and sacrifice. Trapped in a tidal wave of memories, she reassured herself that this was all in the past. A love wronged and a heartbreak buried deep, she swore not to cry for him again. Suddenly, the door swung open as Sean entered, a sense of urgency driving his stride. “Ms. Alyssa! I’ve located our suppliers for bedding and furniture. Most of it comes from Elysian Home. Mr. Grant is responsible for their liaison.” “Elysian again?” Alyssa’s brows knitted together, her demeanor shifting to that of resolve. “Contact the finance department and prepare the accounts for the last two years. And find a new bedding supplier, replace everything that’s from Elysian.” “Are you really going this far?” Jonah raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief lacing his words. “It’s personal,” Alyssa shot back, her tone fierce. “Besides, they’ve been selling subpar bedding to KS World Hotel. They need to be held accountable!” “Alyssa, this isn’t just about comfort. Your disdain stems from discomfort.” Jonah and Sean spoke in unison, recognizing the palpable anger swirling within her. “No! It’s not! It’s about quality and service. Guests deserve better than a dreadful night’s sleep!” Alyssa’s frustration blazed anew. Bad reviews loomed ominously over their ratings, each unsatisfactory stay a damning indictment against everything her family had built. “Right!” Sean chimed in, eager to divert the narrative. “You instructed me to stay abreast of the Becketts. I’ve got news—Newton Beckett has suffered another stroke and is currently hospitalized, under our group’s care.” “Hospitalized?” The words ignited a fresh spark of worry in Alyssa, her heart racing. At that moment, Jonah’s phone buzzed, snapping everyone to attention. He glanced at the screen, a smile breaking across his face. “Lyse, it’s your ex-husband.” In that instant, tension coiled tightly in the air, a whirlwind of emotions binding them together in that upscale yet flawed hotel, where the legacy of the Taylors and the shadows of the past intermingled ominously.