Chapter 897 Phoebe Investigates the Night Three Years Ago
Phoebe sat in the courtyard for what felt like forever, waiting for the alcohol to wear off. When she finally felt steady enough, she leaned against a pillar and made her way to the hotel entrance.
Guadalupe was waiting in the car. As soon as he saw her, he jumped out and opened the back door. "Ms. Ziegler, the party just ended?"
"Yeah, it went a little late tonight." Phoebe bent down and got into the car. Guadalupe closed the door and quickly got back in the driver's seat.
As he started the car and drove off slowly, he glanced at the rearview mirror. "Ms. Ziegler, there's some hangover medicine in the glove compartment. You should take some. You've been drinking a lot these past few days; it's not good for your liver."
Phoebe smiled, took out the pills, and swallowed two. Leaning back in her seat, she said, "Guadalupe, take me to the Azure Palace Hotel."
Guadalupe was surprised. "This late? You got another appointment?"
"No, I just need to check something out," Phoebe replied.
Guadalupe glanced at the rearview mirror again, seeing her eyes closed. He couldn't figure out why she wanted to go to a hotel at this hour, but he was just the driver. If Phoebe said to go, he had to comply.
The car glided through the quiet, deserted streets, streetlights casting fleeting glows through the windows. Phoebe stared out, lost in thought.
Half an hour later, they arrived at the Azure Palace Hotel. Phoebe got out, feeling more sober, and walked inside with her bag.
The hotel lobby was unusually quiet, having passed the peak check-in time. Apart from the security and reception staff, there was hardly anyone around.
Phoebe strode to the front desk. The dozing receptionist immediately stood up, greeting her politely, "Good evening, ma'am. Are you checking in?"
Phoebe handed over her passport. "Do you have any presidential suites available?"
The receptionist discreetly assessed her. Phoebe was dressed in a cream-colored evening gown with a knitted shawl and high-end jewelry, looking quite affluent.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. The presidential suite requires booking, and it's fully occupied tonight. We do have business suites available, which are also very luxurious."
Phoebe tapped her ID on the counter, eyeing the receptionist. "Do all your presidential suites need to be booked in advance?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Phoebe's gaze shifted, and she asked casually, "If someone stayed in the presidential suite three years ago, would their information still be on file?"
The receptionist grew wary, looking troubled. "Ma'am, I'm just a receptionist. I wouldn't know about that."
Phoebe tapped the computer in front of the receptionist. "You don't know? Isn't everything stored in there? Don't you keep backups?"
"Ma'am, please don't make this difficult for me. I don't know. Besides, the information for presidential suite guests is encrypted. I don't have access to it," the receptionist said, almost in tears.
Phoebe replied nonchalantly, "Why are you so nervous? I'm just asking."
The receptionist forced a smile. "Would you like a business suite, then?"
"No, thank you." Phoebe turned and left with her passport. The receptionist watched her leave, then quickly picked up the phone.
The call was answered promptly by a clear, pleasant voice. "What's the situation?"
"Mr. Vanderbilt, someone was just here asking about the presidential suite and if they could check the records from three years ago. I sent her away," the receptionist said, glancing nervously at the entrance, where Phoebe had returned.
Before she could hang up, Phoebe snatched the phone from her hand, putting it to her ear. She heard the familiar voice on the other end.
"Whoever asks about three years ago, just turn them away. Understand?"
Phoebe's grip tightened on the phone. "Edward, it's you. Do you know who was in room 8888 that night?" she demanded angrily.
Edward's breath caught at the sound of her voice. Remembering their fallout, he replied, "Phoebe, even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."
"Why not?" Phoebe gritted her teeth.
"No reason. I heard you got back together with Theodore. Are you planning to find Hubert, Boris, and Noomi's biological father and have him take them away?" Edward deflected.
"I never thought of that," Phoebe said coldly.
"Then what difference does it make if you know who he is? It's just unnecessary trouble. It's late. Go home and rest. Goodbye." Edward hung up.
Phoebe nearly ground her teeth to dust. She glared at the receptionist, slamming the phone back onto its cradle.
The receptionist shrank back, avoiding eye contact. "Ma'am, we really can't disclose guest information."
Phoebe sneered. "Why do you know Edward? What did he offer you to keep him informed?"
The receptionist nervously licked her lips. "Ma'am, Mr. Vanderbilt just became a major shareholder of our hotel a few days ago. From your conversation, it seems you know each other. If you want to check the records, you should talk to him. I'm just an employee."
Phoebe laughed bitterly. Edward had bought the Azure Palace Hotel to hide the identity of Hubert, Boris, and Noomi's father. Why would he go to such lengths?
If she hadn't come tonight, she might never have known that Edward knew the father's identity but never mentioned it. Why?
Phoebe couldn't figure it out. She got back into the car, her expression dark. Guadalupe noticed and asked, "Ms. Ziegler, is everything okay?"
Phoebe shook her head. "It's fine, Guadalupe. Wake me when we get home."
"Alright."
Edward had just hung up when there was a knock on his bedroom door. He turned to look at it, his voice low. "Come in."
The door opened, and Brian entered, carrying a tray with two wine glasses and a decanter of red wine.
"Still up? Want a drink?" Brian set the tray on the table, motioning for Edward to join him. He noticed the clear finger marks on Edward's face and frowned slightly.
"You're usually so composed. Why the rush to buy the Azure Palace Hotel? With the company's current situation, no wonder Dad was furious," Brian said.
Brian was usually the one causing trouble, frequently getting slapped. But seeing Edward in this situation was unusual.
"Come here, let me see. Does it hurt?"
Edward walked over slowly, sitting across from Brian. The finger marks on his face were even more pronounced under the light. "It's fine. I can handle a slap."
Brian frowned. "Why were you in such a hurry? This isn't like you."
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