The manager stepped back slowly, as if the boy had suddenly become something dangerous—not physically, but in a way no one understood yet.
The rich woman stopped recording.
Even her phone lowered slightly.
Boy (crying):
“She… she told me to come here…”
Manager (shaken):
“No… that’s impossible…”
A security guard moved closer, unsure whether to intervene or retreat.
Then the manager grabbed the wristwatch from the boy’s backpack.
It was old. Worn. Almost nothing valuable about it—except the moment she saw the engraving on the back.
Her hands trembled.
Manager (barely audible):
“This watch… belonged to her…”
The boy looked up, confused through tears.
Boy:
“You know my mother?”
The entire showroom felt like it stopped breathing.
The manager opened her mouth… but no sound came out.
And then—
The front doors of the showroom slowly opened again.
A cold draft moved through the golden light.
Someone had just arrived.
Someone who made the manager go completely still.
