That evening, Evelyn stayed at the office an hour late on purpose, waiting until the halls were empty before sneaking down to the parking garage. The Lamborghini was fancy and luxurious, but driving it to work felt like wearing a neon sign that shouted 'I'm being pampered!'
She set the navigation for the Seaview Hotel on the west coast. It was a private, towering VIP establishment perched on the edge of the cliffs, where the roar of the ocean was the only constant soundtrack.
When she arrived at the lavish lobby, decorated like an underwater kingdom, she was stopped by a polite greeter. "Hello, ma'am. Are you a VIP member?"
"I'm here to find someone. Room 308," Evelyn explained.
The greeter's eyes widened. 308 was the presidential suite. After a quick confirmation call, the woman's attitude became even more reverent. "My apologies for the wait. Please, allow me to escort you."
