Part 3A Second Chance at Survival

I grabbed my dad's hand tightly. "We don't want compensation."

The manager clearly wasn't expecting that.

I glared at him and asked, "Who was that third card for?"

"Sweetie, it was just a careless mistake by the staff."

"Then why did she try to hide it?"

The manager's polite demeanor cracked. "No one was hiding anything."

I pointed a finger straight at the receptionist. "She slid the card right next to her keyboard to hide it."

The receptionist fired back immediately, "I just set it down there!"

"Then why didn't you give it to my dad?"

"I..."

She was speechless again.

My dad had zero patience left. "I want to see the keycard encoding logs."

The manager's face hardened. "That is internal hotel data, sir."

"Then we call the police." My dad pulled out his phone. "Let the police look at it."

The receptionist's head snapped up, her voice suddenly shrill and panicked. "Is that really necessary?! I made one extra keycard, and no one even took it! Do you seriously need to call the cops over this?!"

My dad gave her a cold look. "I initially thought you just made a clumsy mistake. But looking at your reaction, I'd say it's absolutely necessary."

She snapped her mouth shut.

Left with no choice, the manager escorted us back to the lobby and opened the backend system.

The screen displayed Room 1708. Total active keycards: 3. The creation times were mere seconds apart, and all three were logged under the same receptionist's employee ID.

There was no system glitch. The machine didn't automatically spit out an extra card. Someone had manually, intentionally encoded three separate cards.

My dad pointed at the screen. "You call this an accidental keystroke?"

The receptionist's face flushed bright red. "My finger slipped."

"If your finger slipped, why not just hand it over to me?"

"I..."

My dad stared her down.

"Why hide it next to the keyboard?"

The manager interrupted, "Sir, please calm down."

"I am completely calm." My dad stated flatly. "I am only asking one question: Who was this card meant for?"

No one answered.

Right at that moment, the automatic sliding doors of the lobby glided open.

A man in a black t-shirt walked in.

He wasn't carrying any luggage. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room, but he didn't head for the front desk. Instead, he casually let his gaze sweep across the lobby.

The moment I saw him, it felt like all the blood was drained from my body.

In my previous life, I was too terrified to look at him when he entered the room, hiding deep under the covers.

I only saw his face clearly after my dad ran back.

When he walked out of our room, he was still zipping up his pants. Facing my dad in the hallway, he didn't look panicked at all. He even smiled and said, "My bad, buddy. Walked into the wrong room."

And then they fought.

I will never, ever forget the malicious look on his face when he shoved my dad down the stairs.

It was this exact man.

I buried my face in my dad's chest, shaking like a leaf in the wind. "Daddy..."

He looked down at me, but I could only point a trembling finger toward the man in the lobby and whisper, "I'm scared of him."

My dad followed my gaze.

The man seemed to sense he was being watched and looked up.

Our eyes met. He didn't look away or act suspicious. Instead, he offered my dad a casual, polite nod, looking exactly like a complete stranger making accidental eye contact.

Then, he didn't approach the desk. He walked over to the lounge area on the far side of the lobby, sat down on a sofa, and pulled out his phone.

It all looked incredibly normal, as if he were just a regular guest.

My dad crouched down. "Do you know him, sweetie?"

I shook my head.

In this life, I certainly wasn't supposed to know him.

The manager glanced over as well. "That appears to be a guest, sir."

I suddenly asked, "What room is he staying in?"

The manager frowned. "Guest privacy policies prevent me from disclosing that."

"Then you can at least tell me if he's actually checked into this hotel."

The manager didn't answer.

Another receptionist nearby discreetly checked the system and hesitated before answering, "It looks like... no."

The lobby fell into a suffocating silence.

The man remained on the sofa. No luggage, no attempt to check-in, not meeting anyone. He just sat there, waiting.

I knew exactly what he was waiting for.

He was waiting for the husband to leave. Waiting for the wife to be alone. Waiting for the perfect, vulnerable moment.