The Thirteenth Floor

Set primarily during the summer of 1939 in Chicago as Europe edges toward war, this historical suspense novel follows a wealthy refugee mother and her two young sons after they escape occupied Prague and take shelter inside the vast Congress Plaza Hotel. Hoping to reunite with her husband, who remains tied up in dangerous financial negotiations in Toronto, she attempts to build a temporary life in America while hiding the truth about the fortune her family carried out of Europe.

At first, the hotel feels grand, modern, and safe. The boys become fascinated by Chicago trains, neon lights, and bustling city streets. Yet beneath the polished elegance of the Congress Plaza lies a hidden world of service corridors, switchboards, locked records, and overheard conversations. Strange men begin appearing too often. Hotel staff quietly notice patterns that do not feel accidental. Long-distance calls, immigration paperwork, banking arrangements, and refugee records slowly transform into pathways of surveillance.

As fear tightens around the family, several unlikely allies emerge inside the hotel. A bellman, a switchboard supervisor, and a federal investigator begin piecing together evidence that foreign operatives may already be operating openly within the United States during the uneasy months before the Second World War. Meanwhile, the woman at the center of the story struggles to separate genuine danger from the exhaustion and paranoia created by exile, loss, and uncertainty.

The novel moves between the crowded streets of Chicago, immigrant neighborhoods in Pilsen, government offices, Toronto banking circles, and haunting flashbacks to Prague during the Nazi occupation earlier in 1939. Through these shifting settings, the story explores the hidden machinery of financial seizure, displacement, and psychological intimidation that followed Jewish refugee families even after they reached America.

Atmospheric and emotionally restrained, the novel transforms the Congress Plaza Hotel into a maze of shadowed hallways, elevator shafts, rain-streaked windows, and quiet human desperation. Every institution designed to help refugees also exposes them. Every attempt at safety creates new vulnerability.

Blending historical realism with escalating suspense, the story examines memory, exile, moral compromise, and the terrifying realization that distance from Europe may not guarantee protection at all. What begins as a story of escape gradually becomes a deeply intimate portrait of fear, survival, and the invisible reach of authoritarian power during the final weeks before the world changed forever.