Anika hung up the phone, snatched the keys to her BMW Mini from the glass counter, and sprinted out of the boutique with her long legs eating up the floor.
Anisha, seeing the sheer worry etched on Anika's face, felt her heart skip a beat.
Could something have happened to Rahul? Anisha immediately dropped her cold reserve, stepped forward to block her sister, and asked with a voice full of anxiety:
"What happened to Rahul? Is he okay? Did he get into an accident?"
"Rahul was just attacked by a female staff member at his hotel," Anika said, her words coming out in a frantic rush.
"He can't stay in that dump for another second. I'm going to pick him up right now and bring him back to our place!"
After speaking, Anika pushed past her twin and disappeared out the boutique doors.
Watching Anika leave, Anisha bit her lip hard.
Rahul was attacked? How is that even possible? Is it serious? Should we call the police? That hateful Anika didn't explain anything properly; she's making me worry to death! Is it because Rahul is so handsome that someone at the hotel lost their mind and tried to force themselves on him? That's absolutely disgusting! It's definitely better for Rahul to stay with us; at least he'll be safe. But... how am I supposed to face Anika after last night? Unaware of her sister's internal turmoil, Anika peeled out of the underground garage in her Mini and headed straight for Rahul's hotel in Gulshan.
Meanwhile, Rahul, carrying his heavy backpack and gear, had already made his way down to the hotel lobby.
The receptionist who had tackled him was nowhere to be seen, likely hiding in the back. Only a different female clerk was at the counter. But when she saw Rahul, there was no sign of the usual starry-eyed infatuation; instead, she looked incredibly guilty, unable to meet his eyes.
Rahul walked over and slammed his electronic room card onto the marble counter, his face a mask of cold fury.
"Check me out. Right now. And I want a full refund for every single remaining day on my booking."
The receptionist stammered, her voice shaking. "I-I'm so sorry, Mr. Rahul... you booked a promotional non-refundable rate. The system literally won't allow a refund or a change."
"Plus, we even waived your security deposit when you arrived as a courtesy."
"According to the terms and conditions, we cannot process a refund for you."
Rahul had initially thought the hotel would jump at the chance to refund him as hush-money compensation for an employee literally assaulting a guest. But he didn't expect this receptionist, who clearly knew exactly what her colleague had done, to try and hide behind official corporate jargon.
He knew how Agoda and Booking.com rules worked, and usually, he wasn't the type to make things difficult for a working girl.
But that was on the premise that everything was normal!
If this were back in India, a hotel manager would be on their knees right now, begging him not to post the story on Twitter or Tag the tourism board! Otherwise, that hotel's reputation would be trashed overnight.
At this moment, Rahul's anger flared even hotter.
"Your staff member literally attacked me in my room, and instead of apologizing or offering a solution..."
"...you're talking to me about 'platform rules'?"
"Do your platform rules state that your staff is allowed to tackle guests at will? Answer me!"
Rahul's voice was booming now, drawing the attention of other guests. He had his phone in his pocket with the audio recording running, documenting every word.
Hearing the commotion, a male manager wearing a cheap suit and thick glasses walked out from the office behind the desk.
Without even bothering to ask what happened, he immediately looked at Rahul with a condescending scowl.
"Sir, excuse me, this is a respectable hotel lobby. Could you please lower your voice?"
"After all, this isn't your country. You must learn to respect us Bangladeshis, alright?"
Rahul was so incredibly angry he actually let out a short, sharp laugh.
So, he's indirectly calling me an uncultured foreigner?
"You're the manager, right? Your employee assaulted me, and I am checking out immediately!" Rahul said, his voice dropping into a deadly cold tone.
"I'm not even asking for a massive compensation for the mental trauma; I am only demanding that you refund my remaining room fees for the nights I won't be staying here!"
"Is that too much for your small mind to grasp?"
Hearing this, a look of mock astonishment appeared on the manager's face.
"You claim our employee attacked you? Do you have any proof? Any witnesses?"
Rahul's face darkened instantly.
This bastard is really planning to gaslight me and flat-out deny it, isn't he? "I don't have a personal witness, but I demand to see the hallway CCTV footage from ten minutes ago."
"Whether I was attacked or not will be perfectly clear the second we watch that tape."
A serious, dismissive expression settled on the manager's face, and he waved his hand as if dismissing a fly.
"We are a high-end establishment. You cannot just demand to see surveillance footage; it involves the privacy of our other, more important guests."
"I cannot fulfill your request. If you want to check out, fine. But the contract says no refund."
With that, the manager snatched the guest registration form from the clerk's hand and adjusted his glasses to look at it.
"Oh, so you're from India?"
"Our hotel has dealt with people from your country before; always looking for loopholes, always trying to find a way to get something for free."
"To get a refund, you'll make up any excuse, won't you? Didn't you read the fine print when you booked the cheap room?"
"If we gave a refund to everyone who told a story like yours, how would we stay in business?"
The look the manager gave Rahul was dripping with pure disdain.
Today, he was determined that he would never give a single Taka back to this Indian man. He saw himself as a sophisticated manager, several levels above the 'tourist' standing in front of him.
More importantly, if he refunded the money, it would be a formal admission that an assault had occurred. That would destroy the hotel's rating.
From his perspective, he just had to bully the foreigner into leaving. Rahul was alone. No one would stand up for him here.
"Say whatever you want about the money, but keep your mouth shut about my country!"
Fire flared in Rahul's eyes.
"It's fine if you don't refund it. I'll just call the police and let them handle the assault charge."
Hearing that Rahul wanted to call the police, the manager smirked behind his glasses.
"As you wish. I'm quite certain the Dhaka police will uphold the law impartially against a foreigner making false claims."
Rahul sneered. He reached into his phone case and pulled out the crisp, gold-embossed business card the SHO had given him.
He dialed the number right in front of the manager's face.
The phone didn't even ring twice before the SHO picked up.
"SHO sir, I've just been assaulted at my hotel. Are you going to handle this, or should I call my friend Miss Barua?"
On the other end of the line, the SHO's heart practically stopped beating. Hearing that Rahul had been attacked sent his voice into a high-pitched, panicked shriek.
"What?! Mr. Rahul, where are you?! We will be there in three minutes! Do not move!"
Rahul gave the hotel's address, hung up, and crossed his arms, looking at the manager with a look of lethal calm.
The anger in his heart was colder and sharper than it had ever been.
The police hadn't even arrived yet, but Anika's BMW Mini screeched to a halt at the hotel entrance. She slammed the car door, and her heels clicked furiously against the pavement as she stormed into the lobby.
The moment Anika entered, her tall figure and undeniable high-society aura immediately grabbed the manager's attention. His eyes widened—he recognized the type of power she carried instantly.
"Rahul! Who is the bastard bullying you?!"
Anika stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing with rage as her gaze swept across the lobby before locking onto the terrified-looking manager.