Mistaken for Rich

A message popped up out of nowhere in the old classmates' group chat. It was from Megan Watson, the class rep. Megan: [Let's get together next week at the Windsor Grand, since that's Rachel's family's place.] Megan: [I'll cover two hundred dollars and treat everyone to dinner, then we can all stay the night after!] Someone replied right away. [The Windsor Grand is Rachel's family's hotel? Then I want the best room there!] I hurried to explain. My family just ran a little diner selling sandwiches and soup. I only worked at the Windsor Grand. Megan sent back a rolling-eyes sticker, dead set on the idea that I was lying. That night, she started a sign-up thread in the chat. Megan: [I'm treating everyone this Saturday. Dinner, then a night's stay after. If you've got the time, reply and sign up!] The chat erupted in cheers. Somehow, all fifty-something people in the class signed up. [I've never stayed in a five-star hotel before. Thanks to Megan, I'm finally going to see how the other half lives!] [I want lobster!] [I'm bringing my wife and kids!] Megan confirmed everyone one by one, dropped the address in the chat, and sent me two hundred dollars. Megan: [Rachel, hang onto that. Have the staff get the rooms ready. Don't shortchange your old classmates.] I laughed. A single night at the Windsor Grand ran a few thousand dollars at the very least, and that was before accounting for the fifty-odd guests headed our way. The boss used to run with a rough crowd, and his temper was harder than his net worth. The last person who'd tried to freeload off him was still lying in a hospital bed. Chapter 1 My phone buzzed with a notification chime. It was two hundred dollars, sent over by Megan. Megan: [We're not trying to eat off you for free or take advantage of you. This is payment, so think of it as supporting your family's business. I can't believe dragging your feet and putting on airs. Vibe killer.] Before I could even respond, she tagged the whole group. Megan: [Then it's settled. Saturday, everyone meet at the Windsor Grand! I'm treating, dinner and then a night's stay after. If you've got the time, reply and sign up!] Cheers erupted in the chat. Somehow, all fifty-plus people in the class signed on. [I've never stayed in a five-star hotel before. Thanks to Megan, I'm finally going to see how the other half lives!] [I'm bringing my wife and kids!] [Megan is so generous!] The chat filled up with people thanking Megan one after another. Not one of them stopped to think how two hundred dollars was supposed to cover a five-star dinner and a night's stay for dozens of people. It was almost too ridiculous to be real. Megan sent back a bashful little emoji. Megan: [Aw, I'm just doing what a class rep's supposed to do.] I didn't want to start anything, so I hurried to set the record straight. Me: [Everyone's got this wrong. The Windsor Grand isn't my family's place. My family just runs a little diner.] The chat went quiet for two full seconds after that. Then Megan sent over a screenshot: a business registry printout with a line reading "Legal Representative: Vince Ford." Megan: [My cousin ran into you at the Windsor Grand once. And the owner shares your last name. You're telling me it's not your family's?] She followed it with a photo. In it, I was sitting in the hotel lobby's lounge area, and the administrative manager, Denise Marshall, was handing me a cup of coffee with a smile, a plate of cut fruit set out on the table between us. Megan: [My cousin saw this with her own eyes when she stayed there last week. You've been hiding this well, Miss Ford!] Megan: [You think a regular employee gets treatment like that?] It was almost funny. By that logic, if my last name happened to match some billionaire's, did that make him my father? And that photo in the lounge was just Denise doing me a favor after I'd helped her out with something small. She was only being polite. But before I could explain any of that in the group, a private message from Megan popped up. Megan: [Rachel, we haven't all gotten together in ages. Don't ruin it for everyone. Three years of friendship should count for something.] Megan: [If you think it's not enough, I'll send another hundred.] She transferred another hundred dollars. Megan: [It's just one dinner; it won't cost you much. Your rooms are usually empty anyway, so it's not like you're losing anything by putting us up for one night. Might as well admit you'll come out ahead. Bleeding money out of your own classmates, real capitalist of you.] That actually got a laugh out of me, bitter as it was. Three hundred dollars, and fifty-some people eating and drinking their fill at a five-star hotel, then staying the night on top of it, and somehow I was the one coming out ahead? I took a clear, well-lit photo of my family's business license and of the sign out front reading "Sunny's Diner," and sent it over. Chapter 2 Me: [Everyone, I'm not trying to weasel out of anything. The Windsor Grand really isn't my family's place. My family just sells sandwiches and soup for a living. This whole thing is one big misunderstanding. Cut me some slack.] Sandra Crowe, our class's disciplinary committee member, spoke up. Sandra: [Oh, come on, leave her alone. It can't be easy playing the poor-little-rich-girl routine, and it's got to be embarrassing now that we've caught on.] The others chimed in. [Rachel, that's a little cold, isn't it? We're old classmates. Your family runs a place that fancy, and we want to soak up a bit of it. What's the harm?] [Forget it, forget it. Little Miss Ford's much too busy these days to bother with old classmates like us.] [Fine, fine, let's just book somewhere else. We come here in good faith to support your business, and this is the thanks we get.] I stared at my screen, my hand shaking with anger. Nobody was listening to a word I said. Everyone just kept talking over each other, and Megan's profile picture kept bouncing to the top of the thread. Megan: [Rachel, so many of us are coming out to make you look good. Don't we at least deserve a parting gift?] [Right, right! I saw on their website they've got those custom silk eye masks. One for everyone isn't asking too much, is it?] [I want that limited-edition travel set, the one with all the Bvlgari toiletries. My wife's been wanting it forever.] [I saw they've got spa vouchers too. One each, maybe?] [Could you throw in a few free-stay vouchers on top? Doesn't need to be much, two per person would do. I want to bring my parents around New Year's.] [I want a box of those scented candles from the lobby. Just hand over a whole case.] I gave a cold, silent laugh. Eating and sleeping there for free wasn't enough. Now I was supposed to play Santa Claus too. I explained myself one last time, as patiently as I could manage. Me: [Everyone, I'll say it one more time. Vince Ford is my boss. He is not my father. If you want to get together, I can use the staff entrance to help book a table. Beyond that, I'm just an employee. I don't have the authority to comp anything. Have I made myself clear?] The chat went silent for three seconds. Then Megan sent a pouty little emoji. Megan: [Rachel, doesn't it bother your conscience to say that? I went through all this trouble putting the reunion together, just so everyone could have a good time, and here you are ruining it for everyone. You couldn't even come up with a decent excuse? You think we're idiots?] Sandra: [You used to be so generous, Rachel. Why are you putting on such airs now? I guess money really does make people look down on everyone else. Look at who she is now, and look at who we are. No wonder she can't stand us poor friends showing up uninvited.] Then Megan sent a long voice message. Fury poured out of it the moment I hit play. "I'm telling you, Rachel, I contacted every single person for this reunion. Counting heads, arranging the schedule, I spent a whole week on it. "And what was it all for? Just so everyone could be happy. And you, from the start, it's one excuse after another. "If you really don't want anything to do with your old classmates, just say so. Why drag it out with garbage like this?" Someone jumped in to comfort her. [Don't let it get to you. Some people are just ungrateful. You pour your heart out for them, and they treat it like nothing.] [Seriously, Rachel, that's low even for you. Megan already paid out of her own pocket, and you can't even agree to set up a table? That's a deliberate slap in the face.] Megan sent two more messages. Megan: [Rachel, we're booking the Windsor Grand. You're going to show up and explain yourself in front of everyone.] Megan: [If you don't show your face, then that's it for our friendship. Your call.] The chat went quiet. Everyone was staring at their screens, waiting for my reply. I stared at the words "our friendship" until I laughed out loud. That friendship sure came with a hefty price tag. Then I left the group chat and opened my messages with the boss. Me: [There's something I'd like to talk to you about.] That Saturday wasn't my shift, and I was curled up under the covers binge-watching a show when the doorbell went off like a fire alarm. I answered the door in my pajamas and nearly got shoved back inside by the wall of people crowding the hallway. Megan led the pack, with seven or eight old classmates crammed in behind her, and a few more trailing families out in the corridor. She had her phone held up on speaker, the group still going off in a chorus of voices on the other end. "Is Rachel answering the door yet?" Chapter 3 "Get her here! How can the guest of honor not even show up today?" Megan stared me down. "Rachel, get changed. You're coming with us." I blocked the doorway with my body. "I'm not on shift today." Sandra squeezed out from behind her. "Whether you're on shift or not has nothing to do with you coming. It's your family's hotel. What does it look like if you're not even there? "Quit stalling. The car's waiting downstairs, and everyone's already there. You're the only one left." I braced myself against the door. "I already told you, it's not my family's place. Whether I go or not..." Before I could finish, two more old classmates squeezed past me, one grabbing my arm and the other shoving my back. Megan reached straight into my closet, yanked out a jacket, and threw it in my face. "Put this on. Don't keep everyone waiting." They dragged and shoved me into a seven-seat van waiting outside. Sandra twisted around from the front passenger seat, grinning at me. "Rachel, really? You had to make us come drag you out?" Todd Eastwood gunned the engine from the driver's seat. "No need to act so high and mighty with us." Megan patted my shoulder from beside me. "Come on, don't sulk. Cheer up today. Do it for your old classmates." When we reached the hotel lobby, Megan shoved through the revolving door, tipped her chin up at the front desk, and barked out an order. "Your biggest banquet hall!" Todd was the first one to charge forward. "The top-floor Skyview Suite! Give me four rooms! One for me, one for my girlfriend, one to change clothes in, and one to sleep off my drinks tonight!" Sandra yanked the menu straight out of the manager's hands, flipped through it twice, and slapped her palm down on the seafood page. "All of this. Everything on the page. Triple it per head." Victoria Reynolds stood on her tiptoes and shouted. "Five dessert tables for me! One for photos, and four to rearrange for different backgrounds!" "And bring up a whole case of that '82 Lafite first. If it's not enough, we'll order more." The whole group swarmed into the banquet hall like a plague of locusts. Todd propped his feet up on the table. "Waiter! Bring king crab sashimi to this table! If it's not enough, bring a whole other table! Grill the Wagyu slice by slice; we'll eat it as it comes off the grill!" Brett Norton had brought his dog along with him. He let the leash go slack, and the golden retriever leapt onto the leather sofa and started digging at it until the legs went crooked. Sandra held up a lobster in front of the camera. "An old classmate's family owns this place, and we get to eat whatever we want!" Beside her, Victoria cracked open two tins of caviar and spooned it straight into her mouth. "It's just okay, honestly. Not quite as good as what I had in Paris." Case after case of red wine got stacked on the tables. There wasn't even time to use a proper corkscrew; someone just jammed a fork straight through a cork. Wine splashed across the tablecloths, the carpet, and the walls. A few of the men clinked their glasses together, took one sip, and let half the glass slosh out with nobody bothering to wipe it up. They just opened another bottle. Victoria speared an entire slab of Wagyu with her fork, dunked it in black truffle sauce three separate times, took one bite, and spat it back out. "Too tough! Grill me a new one!" Megan noticed I hadn't said anything and turned to me. "Rachel, we're all classmates here. You're not actually upset about this, are you?" Someone else immediately chimed in. "Yeah, Rachel, you haven't said a word, and you haven't touched your fork. You're not mad, are you?" "We don't get together like this often, and we came all this way to support you, and you're giving us attitude?" "Just eat! Megan's paying for all of this today!" "Rachel's probably going to profit off us anyway. No idea what she's got to be upset about." They were right about one thing. I really didn't have anything to feel sorry about. Tomorrow, when the bill came due, it wouldn't be me shedding any tears. An hour later, Todd had drunk himself sick. Two people had to prop him up on either side and haul him toward the Skyview Suite, and he threw up the entire way down the hallway. Brett's dog shattered the glass door of the Pool Suite, and water flooded out across half the corridor. Sandra and Victoria got into a shoving match on the spiral staircase over who'd get the room with the best view, and knocked a framed painting clean off the wall. It cracked in half when it hit the floor. The hotel didn't quiet down until three in the morning. Sleep well, old classmates. This would be the last peaceful night's rest any of you got for a long while. The next morning, sunlight streamed through the lobby's floor-to-ceiling windows at ten o'clock. Todd carried five boxes of truffle chocolates. Brett led his dog around, half a towel still hanging from its mouth. Sandra and Victoria had their arms full of spa vouchers and room passes. Chapter 4 Megan had a bag full of custom eye masks in one hand and three gold-tier membership cards in the other. The group headed for the door in high spirits, laughing loudly, suitcase wheels clattering across the marble floor. Megan turned back and called out to me, "Rachel! We're leaving! This hotel's not bad. We'll come back again sometime!" Victoria rolled her eyes at the front desk as she walked past it. "The service was nothing special. Way too slow bringing out the food." Brett's dog suddenly broke free of its leash and bolted for the door, knocking over a vase on the welcome stand. Water spilled everywhere. Paige Cohen, one of the staff, crouched down to clean it up. Brett ran after the leash and grabbed it, but instead of apologizing, he snapped at her, "Why would you even put a vase there? It almost tripped my dog!" Paige kept her head down and said nothing, wiping up the water and the broken porcelain shards bit by bit with a rag. That was when the manager on duty walked over, a long stack of bills in his hand, the paper trailing down almost to the floor. "Everyone, please hold on a moment," he said. "Let's settle the account first." Megan shoved me forward and waved a hand at him, "Bill her! This is the hotel's heiress. We're her classmates!" I stood there with my hands in my pockets and tilted my head. "Employees don't actually have the authority to comp a bill for guests, you know." Her face froze for a second before she forced a smile back on. "Don't be like this, Rachel. Let me talk to your manager..." The manager didn't say a word. He just held the bill up in front of her. "Do you even know who we are?" Megan snapped. "We're friends of Rachel Ford!" "You really want to mess with us? Aren't you afraid your boss will fire you?" Sandra struck a haughty pose beside her. I spread my hands and gave the manager a helpless look. He seemed to find it funny too. "Everyone, this is a misunderstanding," he said. "The bill is still yours to settle. Venue fee, food, rooms, parting gifts, repairs, damages… "Two million eight thousand six hundred dollars, all together." The smile on Megan's face froze, then slowly collapsed. The manager held the bill out to her again, his voice completely flat, "Whoever ordered it pays for it. It's all in writing, signed and dated." He tipped his chin toward the front desk, and the young clerk there carried over a stack of signed receipts. Every single one had Megan's name written clearly across it. Sandra hurled the voucher packet in her arms onto the floor. "What kind of garbage hotel is this? You're scamming us! Two million dollars? I'm filing a complaint!" Victoria started shouting too, "This bill is fake! You're all in on this together! I'm calling the police!" Todd slammed the chocolate box in his hands onto the floor. It burst open with a crash, truffles rolling everywhere. He pulled out his phone and started filming, shoving the camera in the manager's face. "Everyone, look at this! The Windsor Grand is a scam operation! Ripping off customers! Bullying ordinary people! Jacking up prices on the spot! I'm posting this online!" Spooked by the chaos, Brett's dog started barking wildly, racing back and forth between the revolving door and the lobby. Brett couldn't hold the leash any longer and just let go. The dog charged straight for the front desk and jumped up onto the counter. The young clerk stumbled backward in fright, nearly falling over, the receipts in her hands scattering across the floor. The whole lobby dissolved into chaos. Megan turned around and put the blame on me instead. "Rachel, do you really have to make things this hard on your old classmates? Money really has turned you cold, hasn't it?" At her words, the crowd surged toward me, every single one of them looking at me like they wanted to tear me apart. Even Brett's dog started barking at me. That was when the elevator doors on the right side of the lobby chimed open. A middle-aged man in a black shirt stepped out, a group of broad-shouldered bodyguards falling in behind him. It was Vince Ford. The boss had arrived. He was tall, and the air in the lobby seemed to sink lower the moment he started walking. His eyes swept over the wreckage scattered across the floor before settling on the unruly mob in front of him. "Who's causing trouble in my hotel?" The moment he spoke, the whole lobby went still, like nobody dared even breathe.