On Mother's Day, I take my mom to a hotel under my company for a vacation.

We've just sat on a leather couch in the lobby for a short while when the supervisor-in-training, Jacob White, rushes over angrily and yanks us up to our feet.

"This couch is meant for the guests who have applied for a VIP membership in this hotel! For broke tourists like you, you're welcome to stay in a cheap motel! Don't leech off the cool air generated by our air conditioners here!"

My brows are knotted into a frown instantly. I'm about to declare my identity when Jacob shows me a bill and demands that I pay 1,500 dollars for a meal here.

My expression goes dark immediately. "We've just arrived at the hotel, and we barely even have a sip of water here. Why should we pay 1,500 dollars for a meal here?"

Jacob rolls his eyes at me before rapping his knuckles on the counter in an arrogant manner.

"Those who stay at this hotel must pay this sum! We're serving fancy food here, you know! It's your business to consume it, but regardless, you still have to pay up!"

Unable to endure Jacob's antics anymore, I tell him to call the manager over. But he sneers at me before pointing at his name tag.

"This hotel belongs to my godsister! I'm the one who calls the shots in the entire lobby! No one can help you this time, regardless of who you lodge a complaint to!"

I stiffen up on the spot. I'm the only son in this family, and my relatives never meddle with my hotel businesses.

Who the hell is this so-called godsister that has usurped my position as the owner?

I glanced at the name tag on the intern supervisor's chest and memorized his name—Jacob White.

Faced with his unreasonable demand that I pay a 1,500-dollar meal charge, I stopped pretending to be polite and revealed my identity.

"I'm the owner of this hotel."

When Jacob heard what I said, he looked at Mom and me from head to toe as if we were idiots. A harsh, mocking laugh crackled in his throat.

"You're that desperate to get out of paying, huh?"

He rolled his eyes, continuing with unmasked sarcasm, "Look at you, pretending to be the owner while dressed in cheap clothes. I've seen plenty of poor people like you.

"If you're traveling on a budget, stay at a cheap motel instead of coming to a five-star hotel just to enjoy free air-conditioning and pretending you're some rich big shot."

I lowered my head and looked at what Mom and I were wearing. We had just gone to the local flea market near the hotel for a casual walk, wanting to relax and enjoy ourselves.

The clothes we had on were local-style linen and cotton outfits we had just bought there. The cost of our outfits totaled less than 30 dollars.

All Mom carried an eco-friendly reusable bag from the market, the kind they gave away at fruit stands, with an advertisement printed on it.

Standing in the lobby of this five-star hotel, I had to admit we did look slightly out of place.

Jacob slapped the counter and raised his voice. "My godsister owns this place. She built this entire empire in Southsake herself! You two poorly-dressed bums don't even qualify to polish her shoes. How dare you pretend to be her?"

Faced with Jacob's arrogant humiliation, Mom frowned and glanced at me. Before retiring, she had been a senior teacher at one of the city's top high schools. She had spent her entire life teaching students.

She never imagined she would be treated with such disrespect, especially not in her own son's hotel.

Upon seeing me shake my head, Mom turned back to Jacob. "Sir, what you're doing now is a form of aggressive commercial practice.

"Besides, the hotel lobby is a public area. You have no right to use that as an excuse to drive guests away, let alone insult them."

Jacob was left speechless. His face turned pale, then red with embarrassment. He didn't expect an old woman dressed in cheap clothes to be so sharp-tongued.

Humiliated and furious, he grabbed his walkie-talkie and shouted, "Security, we have two disruptive individuals in the lobby. Get over here immediately!"

Less than 30 seconds later, four security guards rushed in from the hallway.

Jacob pointed at us and said viciously, "I make the rules in this hotel. Unless you pay for the meal, you're not taking a single step out of here!"

I looked at the ridiculous scene unfolding before me, feeling a wild sense of disbelief.

Who was this so-called godsister of his that dared to create her own rules on my turf? Which executive in the group was using my name to throw their weight around?

I had to get to the bottom of things immediately. I would have the HR department and the audit team investigate.

I pulled out my phone, only to realize it had died. Earlier at the flea market, I had used up all the battery filming videos for Mom. I looked at the black screen and calmed myself down.

If I got into a physical confrontation with these security guards, Mom could easily get hurt at her age.

So, I reached out and stopped Mom, who was about to continue arguing with them. I turned to Jacob, standing there smugly.

"Fine. I'll pay the 1,500-dollar meal charge," I said. "But since this is supposed to be a luxury meal, I want an official catering invoice and a detailed itemized bill of every charge."

Jacob smirked the second he saw me give in and take out my card. He took the credit card I handed him and quickly swiped 1,500 dollars on the POS machine.

But instead of issuing an invoice, he rummaged through a drawer, then pulled out a receipt book. He scribbled a few words, stamped it with a red seal, and tore it off before tossing it to me.

"The invoice machine is broken. We only have receipts. Take it or leave it!"

I picked up the handwritten receipt and glanced at it. My expression instantly turned cold.

The receipt didn't have our hotel's official financial stamp at all. Instead, it bore the seal of a company called "Grand Feast Catering Outsourcing Services Co., Ltd".

As the CEO, everything finally clicked.

This hotel had a huge flow of customers. By forcing guests to pay 1,500 dollars through this kind of scheme, then routing the money through this outsourcing company, they could move a considerable amount of funds every year.

This was no longer just a violation of company rules. It was a criminal case of embezzlement and money laundering.

I carefully folded the receipt and tucked it into my pocket. "Lead the way. I'd like to try out the luxury meal that costs 1,500 dollars."

Ten minutes later, the dishes were served. The moment Mom looked at the food on the table, she shook her head in anger.

Several dishes were obviously pre-made meals, and even the juice was just syrup mixed with water.

She picked up her cutlery and poked at one of the seafood dishes. Then she started commenting on it in front of everyone, "The shrimp veins have already turned black, and the meat is loose. These are clearly dead shrimp that were repeatedly frozen and thawed.

"This steak doesn't seem fresh either. You charge over a thousand dollars for this, yet what you're selling is food that doesn't even compare to what you'd find at a cafeteria!"

Mom's voice grew louder, drawing the attention of the people at the surrounding tables.

Afraid that the guests would turn against him, Jacob immediately brought the security guards over and forcibly dragged Mom and me to the most secluded corner of the restaurant.

Seeing how furious he looked, I deliberately provoked him. "The food is terrible, and you can't even be bothered to put on a decent act. I bet your so-called godsister is just some low-level nobody who's never seen the world, huh?"

"Bullshit!" Jacob snapped, completely losing his composure, then started bragging.

"She's the person in charge of all material procurement for dozens of hotels across Southsake! She just bought a river-view villa at Lakeshire No. 1 with full payment. Yesterday, she picked up a fully loaded Porsche!

"People as poor as you could work your whole lives and still not afford even one of her car tires!"

Someone who was in charge of all procurement across Southsake? That would be Lynette Sink, the procurement director.

But she had always been upright and low-profile. Not to mention, she was about to retire soon. There was no way she would pull something like this.

If it wasn't Lynette, who could interfere with the procurement of this five-star hotel and allow someone under them to launder money this blatantly?

I didn't take a single bite of that ridiculously expensive meal, and neither did Mom.

I planned to get the room key, settle down, then find a charger to power up my phone and figure out what was going on.

"Last name, Harrison. Please give me the key card for the presidential suite reserved in the system," I said, handing my ID to the front desk receptionist.

The receptionist was just about to enter the information into the computer when Jacob suddenly snatched my ID away. He glanced at it, then casually tossed it onto the counter.

"The presidential suite is reserved for my godsister to host important guests!" he said, crossing his arms proudly and rolling his eyes.

"People like you who had to hesitate over paying a 1,500-dollar meal bill are only worthy of staying in the cheapest standard room in the farthest corner of the first floor!"

My brows furrowed.

I had personally been involved in the design of this hotel. The presidential suite on the top floor had always been marked as "CEO Reserved" in the internal system.

Without my private authorization code, no one was allowed to change the room status. Now, the top-tier suite I had reserved for myself had been downgraded without my permission.

I finally reached my limit. Without another word, I walked around the counter and entered the front desk work area.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" the receptionist shouted.

I pushed her aside and placed both hands on the keyboard. As the hotel's actual controlling shareholder and one of the people involved in designing the system architecture, I could recite the system's backdoor commands even with my eyes closed.

Within a few quick moves, I pulled up the status logs for the presidential suite. Looking at the data on the screen, I was so angry that I actually laughed.

Starting last month, the presidential suite, which was listed at 1,300 dollars per night, had been secretly rented out by the hour for 300 dollars to a certain group.

Every afternoon, they brought dozens of people in and took turns taking photos inside. It was obvious they were using my hotel to pretend they were wealthy socialites.

I didn't actually care about that kind of activity, but what I couldn't accept was that they were using the suite I had personally reserved for myself.

Charging 300 dollars per hour meant earning 2,400 dollars in just eight hours. That money had most likely all gone straight into Jacob's and his godsister's private accounts.

Immediately, I laid out everything I had just deduced. A flash of panic crossed Jacob's face, but he quickly turned the accusation back on me.

"You're making things up!" he barked, pointing at me. "You illegally hacked into the hotel's computer system."

He then shouted toward the security guards outside, "Security! This man is a dangerous hacker who's just infiltrated our system to steal our corporate secrets! Remove them from the premises now!"

Several security guards immediately lunged forward.

Mom pointed at the lead guard and warned him, "Try touching us and see what happens. You can get charged for unlawful restraints! You're only hotel security guards—you have no legal authority!

"Think twice before laying a hand on us. Do you have what it takes to face the consequences?"

The security guards were just employees, after all. After hearing Mom's words, they hesitated. No one dared take another step forward.

Just then, a sudden scream pierced through the lounge area in the lobby. "Oh my God! My diamond necklace is gone!"

A woman dressed head to toe in luxury brands rushed to the front desk, looking panicked. She stomped her feet anxiously.

"I just went to the restroom and left my bag on the couch in the lobby. When I came back, the necklace was gone! That was a limited-edition piece worth over 300,000 dollars!"

Jacob's eyes immediately darted around. He pointed at Mom and me, accusing, "It was them! They were the only two people sitting near that couch earlier! They couldn't even bear to pay for their meal—it had to be them!"