Chapter 2
The elevator ride to the fourth floor felt agonizingly slow. Alejandro stood rigidly in the corner of the polished brass-and-mirror car, keeping his body positioned as a barrier between the hotel guests and the barefoot boy. Maya kept her eyes fixed on the floor, her small pink shoes scuffing lightly against the carpet. The boy, whose name Alejandro still didn't know, stood quietly, staring at his own bruised toes. When the chime signaled their arrival, Alejandro led them down the dimly lit hallway to Suite 402, swiping the keycard with a hand that had only a slight, controlled tremor. Once the heavy oak door clicked shut behind them, the noise of the city outside vanished, replaced by the humming of the room's climate control. Alejandro turned on the entryway lamp, casting a warm, amber glow across the tasteful, neutral-toned sitting room. He gestured toward the plush sofa. "Sit down," he said, his voice lower and softer now, stripped of the defensive authority he had used in the lobby. The boy shook his head, clutching the silver pendant tightly against his chest, refusing to let go of it even for a second. "I'm not gonna take it from you," Alejandro added, holding up his palms in a gesture of surrender. "Just... sit. You're exhausted." The boy slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the sofa, his dirt-smudged legs looking entirely out of place against the expensive beige upholstery. Maya hovered near the armchair, her curiosity finally overcoming her fear as she peeked at the boy from behind the cushioned backrest. Alejandro walked over to the minibar, poured a small glass of bottled water, and brought it back, kneeling once more so he wouldn't tower over the child. The boy accepted the glass with trembling fingers, drinking greedily, water spilling slightly down his chin and dampening the grey collar of his shirt. Alejandro watched him swallow, noting the way the boy's throat worked, the desperate, survival-driven rhythm of his movements. There was no mistaking the reality sitting in front of him. This wasn't a scam, and it wasn't a mistake. The past had finally caught up to him, wearing a ragged shirt and no shoes.
