The heavy glass doors of the grand hotel ballroom reflected the bright lights of the afternoon party.
Inside the hall, wealthy guests in expensive suits and designer dresses gathered for the annual city charity gala.
Laughter filled the air while servers carried silver trays of vintage champagne through the crowd.
Arthur Vance stood near the center of the room, listening politely to a business partner discuss a new real estate contract.
At thirty-five years old, Arthur was the chief executive officer of his family's investment firm and held millions in equity.
Despite his great wealth and high status, he always preferred quiet moments over loud, extravagant corporate parties.
Suddenly, the sharp sound of a man shouting near the front entrance cut through the soft music of the violin band.
Arthur paused his conversation and turned his head toward the wide oak doors of the ballroom.
A tall security guard stepped forward and reached out his arm to block the main hallway.
Standing on the polished marble floor was a small, pale boy who appeared no older than eight years old.
The boy wore a oversized coat with frayed sleeves and scuffed leather shoes that were far too big for his feet.
He was trembling under the cold air of the hallway AC while clutching a small cloth bundle to his chest.
Guard: You need to leave right now, kid.
Guard: Private events are not for street beggars.
Boy: I am not begging, sir.
Boy: I just need to find Mr. Arthur Vance.
Arthur set his crystal glass down on a nearby table and walked quickly toward the doorway.
He felt a strange knot form in his chest as he looked closely at the young boy's face.
The child had deep blue eyes that looked strikingly familiar to Arthur, though he could not instantly place why.
Arthur stepped between the aggressive security guard and the frightened child, holding up a calm hand.
Arthur: That is enough, Marcus.
Arthur: Lower your voice and step back.
Guard: Mr. Vance, he snuck past the outer gate.
Guard: I was just clearing him out of the building.
Arthur: I will handle this myself.
Arthur slowly knelt down on the hard marble floor so he was at eye level with the young boy.
The child wiped a tear from his dirty cheek with his sleeve and swallowed hard before speaking.
Boy: Are you Mr. Arthur?
Arthur: Yes, I am Arthur Vance.
Arthur: Why are you looking for me, son?
Boy: My mom told me to run here.
Boy: She said I had to place this in your hands directly.
The young boy unclasped his small, cold fingers and held out a worn object wrapped in a faded blue handkerchief.
Arthur reached forward carefully and pulled back the soft fabric to see what the child was holding.
Inside lay a tarnished golden pocket watch locket with an intricate crest carved into the heavy metal cover.
Arthur froze completely as his eyes locked onto the small lion engraving on the front of the watch.
It was the exact heirloom pocket watch his older brother had carried on the night he vanished ten years ago.