He read the names attached to the work orders, then the dates, then the security notes.
No repair.
No escalation.
A restricted route leading almost directly into his private suite had remained unsecured for months because everyone assumed nobody would notice.
Wren had noticed.
So had the man who had followed her far enough into staff-only space that he had nearly reached the elevators.
Silas opened another window.
At 3:46 a.m., he sent three instructions.
The maintenance panel would be secured before sunrise.
Employee entrances would require renewed credentials beginning that morning.
And a vacant long-stay apartment owned by the hotel group would be removed from inventory immediately.
He paused over the final instruction.
Then he added something no employee would later connect to Wren.
Effective immediately, the hotel would establish a confidential emergency accommodation policy for staff facing an immediate safety crisis.
No department manager could block it.
No employee would need to disclose private details to coworkers.
Housing, transport and access to independent legal support could be authorized through one designated office.
The first apartment was to be prepared before 7:00 a.m.
The cost would not come from Wren’s wages.
It would not appear as a loan.
And his name would not appear anywhere she could see it.
Silas approved the funding personally.
Then he closed the laptop.
When Wren emerged from the bathroom, her hair was tied back and her uniform was immaculate again.
Only the bruise betrayed the night.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Now you take the guest room.”
She looked toward the separate bedroom at the far end of the suite.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I’ve already caused enough trouble.”
Silas looked at the rumpled bed where he had found her.
“You were asleep for seventeen minutes after I arrived.”
Her eyes widened.
“You were sitting there that long?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
Silas considered the question.
Because she looked exhausted.
Because people who felt hunted rarely slept deeply enough to dream.
Because for those seventeen minutes, nobody knew where she was except a man who had no intention of hurting her.
He said only, “You needed the sleep more than I needed the bed.”
Wren looked away quickly.
“Guest room,” he repeated.
This time she went.
At 6:12 a.m., Silas was still awake.
Wren was not.
He heard nothing from the guest room.
At 6:40, security confirmed the man had left the property after being formally barred.
The audio recording of his threat had been preserved.
Earlier lobby footage also showed him grabbing Wren’s arm near an employee corridor before she pulled free.
Silas watched that clip once.
Only once.
The bruise on her jaw suddenly needed no explanation.
He ordered the footage preserved and made available to Wren if she chose to report what had happened.
He did not make that choice for her.
