Chapter 370: Chapter 369: Oh! That Explains It
Arabella tugged Rex’s sleeve, whispering, "So it’s like a movie set that never got taken down?"
"Exactly," Vivienne said, warmth in her voice. "Except this movie had a revolving cast of real people. Legends walked these halls, made deals, ruined careers, fell in love, got blacklisted, got knighted... you name it."
She guided him toward a panelled corridor with portraits and old photographs. "And that painting over there," she pointed to a framed black-and-white photo of a glittering gala, "is from the opening gala. Imagine... 3,000 guests, orchestras, canaries in cages, seven courses, dancing. The whole city dressed to kill, sneaking in even though Prohibition was happening. They called this place ’The Host of the Coast.’"
Rex let his fingers lightly brush the walnut frame of a photo showing Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford in period attire. He smiled at Vivienne. "So this place isn’t just old money... it’s legendary money."
Vivienne nodded, her eyes catching a gilded ceiling fresco overhead. "Yes. Giovanni Battista Smeraldi did this work, he was the hand behind ceilings in places like the Vatican. This ballroom, the Crystal Ballroom, the frescoes, the carvings... all that. You sweep through here and you feel like history’s been holding its breath."
She moved on smoothly, keeping her tone easy, conversational. "And when the Olympics came to Los Angeles in 1932, most of the athletes stayed here. There’s even a story that a few of them practiced pole-vaulting in the lobby before the staff begged them to stop."
Arabella giggled at the thought. "Did they break anything?"
"Thankfully not," Vivienne said, lips curving. "But one of the chandeliers has a dent on the rim, and some of us like to believe that’s the culprit."
Arabella snuggled in Rex’s arms, eyes wide as if rediscovering the hotel herself. "Mama, tell him about the ghosts!"
Vivienne shot her daughter a look, then chuckled softly. "Children’s stories," she said, though her tone carried a teasing edge. "But yes... people whisper that a few guests never really checked out. The most famous is the ’Lady in Black,’ a woman seen gliding down the corridors. Some swear she was once a silent film actress whose career ended too soon. Personally, I think it’s just a trick of the light... though the staff seems a little too quick to change the subject when you ask them."
Rex smiled faintly. "Sounds like this place has more lore than half the fantasy novels I’ve read."
Finally, she led him toward the private dining wing, past doors with heavy handles of carved bronze, past marble mosaics, past guests who, seeing them move through, parted subtly, like the world acknowledging royalty moving through the crowd.
As the door to the private room flung open, a golden glow spilled out. Wood panels, long polished tables, draped curtains, fresh lilies in vases... the sort of room that made you think: this is where weighty conversations happen, not idle chatter.
Vivienne whispered, almost to herself, "This room’s been reserved for presidents, magnates, stars. Few ever get invited here. I’m glad you came."
Rex let that sink in, the tour’s grandeur, the tone of her voice. Not over the top, just sincere. And in that moment, he felt more than just welcomed.
Inside, more members of the Sterling family were already seated. They turned as one when Rex entered, their expressions shifting into warm smiles, the kind that carried both welcome and understanding, like they already knew this was going to happen.
Before Rex could even take it all in, Noah Sterling—yes, that Noah, the overenthusiastic cousin who had sworn himself Rex’s "brother-for-life" outside... pushed back his chair and stood up with dramatic flair.
"Ah, Rex! How was it?" Noah grinned, spreading his arms as if he’d personally built the hotel brick by brick. "Wasn’t it amazing? Every single person who steps in here gets that same look you had—like they’ve just walked through a time portal. The first time I came, I swear I thought I was teleported straight into the golden age of the 1900s. I half expected to bump into Charlie Chaplin in the hallway."
Rex chuckled, shaking his head. "I’ll admit, it does have that effect. You make it sound like a tourist trap, though."
"Tourist trap?" Noah clutched his chest in mock injury. "Blasphemy. This, my dear brother, is a temple of history."
The room laughed softly at Noah’s dramatics, but he wasn’t finished. He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough to sound like he was letting Rex in on a secret... though clearly intending for the whole room to hear.
"Of course, there’s another reason it feels different for us. You see..." He paused for effect, eyes glinting with mischief. "...this little gem of a hotel? It’s Sterling property. Been in the family for decades. And the one keeping it running: handling the staff, overseeing the events, making sure the chandeliers don’t fall on guests’ heads... is none other than our dear Vivienne."
All eyes slid to her as if on cue. Vivienne, elegant as ever, accepted the attention with nothing more than a graceful smile. She didn’t confirm it aloud, but she didn’t need to.
Rex blinked, a small flicker of realization passing through him. So that explains it. No wonder she knew every painting, every story, down to the year and the gossip behind it. No wonder the staff bowed their heads like monks every time she walked by.
And, come to think of it, no wonder guests and even the manager had treated him with such cautious respect along the way. It wasn’t just his face or presence... it was proximity to her.
"Ah," Rex murmured under his breath, lips quirking into a wry smile. "Now it all makes sense."
Noah, oblivious to Rex’s internal monologue, clapped him on the back with a brotherly thump. "See? We don’t just do business, my brother... we do legacies. You picked the right family to get acquainted with!"
"Picked?" Rex raised a brow, amusement playing on his face. "You make it sound like I signed up for a subscription plan."
"Exactly!" Noah beamed. "Welcome to Sterling Premium Plus. Benefits include lifetime loyalty, free protection against enemies, and occasional ghost stories courtesy of this hotel."
The family chuckled again, the room’s air softening from formal luxury into something warmer, more human.
(End of Chapter)