"Happy birthday, son," Benjamin whispered to the picture. "I'll get you that watch. I promise."
He didn't know that in 11 minutes, the watch wouldn't matter anymore. What was coming through that door would change everything.
Inside Sterling and Hale, Derek Ashton was riding a high he hadn't felt in months.
He stood behind the main counter, jacket unbuttoned, sleeves pulled back just enough to show the edge of his Rolex. The staff moved around him like planets around a sun. Obedient, quiet, careful not to drift too close.
"Megan." He didn't look up. "Pull up today's security footage. The old man. All of it."
Megan hesitated. "All of it, sir?"
"All of it. And delete it. Every frame from the moment he walked in to the moment he was removed. I don't want a single second of that on our system."
"But sir, company policy says we keep..."
"I am company policy in this building." Derek's voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "Delete it. If anyone from corporate asks, there was a system glitch. Understood?"
Megan nodded. She walked to the back office with her head down.
Allison watched from the watch case. She had already saved a backup of the footage to her personal cloud three minutes ago, while Derek was still performing for his audience.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn't check it. She didn't need to. She knew who it was.
Derek turned to the floor staff. Six of them, standing in a loose half circle, waiting.
"Let me be clear about something." He clasped his hands behind his back like a general addressing troops. "What happened today was a security matter. A man entered the store who did not meet our standards. He was asked to leave. He resisted. Security assisted. That's the story. That's the only story."
He looked at each of them, one by one. "If anyone, anyone, talks about this outside this building, I will personally ensure you never work in luxury retail again. Not in New York. Not anywhere."
Terrence Blake straightened his tie and nodded. Kyle Patterson stared at the floor. A woman named Shelby Cross folded her arms and said nothing, which was its own kind of agreement.
Allison kept her face blank.
She had worked at Sterling and Hale for 91 days. She had never met the owner. But she had studied the founder's portrait every day since her first shift, and she had recognized those eyes the moment Benjamin walked in.
She said nothing. She didn't have to. In 12 minutes, someone else would do the talking.