The silver surface had faded with age. Tiny scratches covered every corner. One small dent rested beside the winding key. It wasn’t valuable in the way expensive jewelry was valuable.

It looked valuable because someone had loved it for years.

Michael watched the child begin walking toward Room 214.

The boy never looked at the room numbers.

He never asked anyone for directions.

He walked with complete certainty.

Every step carried him directly toward Emily Carter’s room.

Michael quietly pushed himself away from the wall.