Chapter Text
Brighton, 25th of December 1909:
The chandelier above him split into three, then merged, then split again in a blurry mess. Levi squeezed his eyes shut tight, rubbing them hard as if he could physically shove his vision back into focus, but when he peeked again, the room was still spinning.
For the past few minutes, all he could hear was a constant, sharp ringing in his ears. His breathing felt heavy and forced, and his eyelids kept fighting him every second they stayed open.
The room around him felt like it was moving in a slow uneven way. Like everything was slightly off balance. Voices blended together until they turned into a constant hum in the background, and he could barely follow what was happening.
Everything felt too bright, too loud, distorted, and somehow still far away from him.
Christmas.
It was Christmas. His birthday. The thought passed through his mind and was gone almost immediately.
He looked down. A crystal glass was gripped in his hand. He stared at it as if it belonged to a stranger, surprised his fingers still worked. The glass was empty. He couldn’t remember drinking it, nor could he remember exactly what cocktail of pills he’d crushed into it a few minutes ago. The only thing he remembered was recklessly mixing things he shouldn’t have.
A sudden wave of heat scorched up his neck, burning from the inside out. He clawed at his collar, the tie feeling like a noose, but his fingers slipped and fumbled. A laugh erupted right next to his ear. He flincheded, the sound throwing him off. It was too loud, hitting him harder than it should’ve.
He felt a hand brushing his shoulder, pulling him through the crowd. His balance wasn’t keeping up. He stumbled sideways, bumping into someone as the room seemed to tilt around him for a second.
Then nothing.
Cold.
Levi was stumbling down a street he didn’t recognize. The upscale party was gone. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten to that sketchy looking area. He stumbled down the street, lights blurring in his vision.
A laugh erupted from his throat, but it sounded strange in his own ears, like it wasn’t really his. After a few minutes of walking without direction, he spotted a bar nearby. He fell through the door more than he walked through it, then slammed his hand on the wooden counter, demanding a drink.
The bartender said something. Maybe told him to go home. Levi didn’t remember.
Then nothing.
When Levi opened his eyes, he was met with a stretch of starry sky above him. He swayed as he blinked the world back into focus. He was balanced on the precipice of a tenement roof, six stories of nothing between him and the cobblestones below.
His coat was gone. He had no memory of the climb.
The wind hit his face hard. It was freezing, but he didn’t care. He just smiled at the city and the dark sky. He lifted his arms out to the sides, feeling weightless, leaning forward ever so slightly, his body seeking an answer his mind couldn’t articulate. For a second, he felt completely free.
Then nothing.
Levi slammed back into consciousness, but this time it felt different. His lungs seized, throat closing as if invisible hands were squeezing. Each heartbeat felt like it might crack his ribs from the inside. His body was shaking violently, his teeth practically chattering, though he couldn't tell if it was from the freezing cold or the panic.
Levi squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying to stop the room from spinning, then slowly opened them. He looked around wildly, confused.
What happened?
His gaze drifted down to his shaking hands. His breath hitched. It took a terrifying second for his brain to catch up to what he was seeing:
Blood.
It coated his fingers and ran down his palm, sticky and warm against his freezing skin. He stared at it paralized, his breathing ragged. His suit was wrinkled and damp, his shirt half-untucked and soaked with blood, clinging to him.
His hair hung in a mess over his ghost pale face.
The winter air made his body feel almost numb, but all he could feel in that moment was the blood on his hands.
Southampton, 9th of April 1912:
Levi stared into his tea. It had gone cold minutes ago, but he kept his eyes on it, watching the chandelier’s reflection bend and blur in the cup. Nothing else seemed worth noticing. The hotel’s dining room carried on around him.
“Levi...”
The voice was distant, like it was coming from underwater.
“Levi?”
A hand touched his arm.
He snapped out of it, his body jerking slightly as the dining hall rushed back in at full volume.
Dorothy was staring at him, her brow furrowed in concern.
She withdrew her hand slowly as he focused on her.
“I’ve said your name three times,” she said softly, her blue eyes searching his face. “Are you alright? You haven't touched your dessert.”
Levi blinked, instinctively adjusting his posture.
“I'm fine,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat. “Just... lost in thought.”
“You look pale,” Dorothy said. “Perhaps the change in elevation has unsettled you.”
“Nonsense,” a deep voice said from the head of the table.
Erwin Smith, Dorothy’s father, leaned back in his chair with a charming smile, swirling his brandy. “It’s pre voyage nerves, isn't it, Levi? Perfectly natural. Even regular travelers get a bit nervous before a journey like this.”
He lifted his cup as he spoke. “But you have nothing to worry about. The Titanic is a fortress of steel. She’s practically a floating city.”
“And just as crowded,” Kenny muttered from across the table.
“Don’t tell me this many people make you nervous, Levi.”
The man that had raised him since he was twelve, Levi’s uncle, sat across from him.
“Kenny, please,” Marie sighed, patting Erwin’s hand. She gave Levi a sympathetic smile. “Don't listen to them, Levi. Once you get some sleep, you'll feel much better.”
“I'm sure you're right.” Levi forced the corners of his mouth up.
“Of course she is,” Erwin said, signaling the waiter to refill his glass. “We need you rested. There’s barely a day to settle once we dock in New York before we head to Philadelphia.”
“Oh, let’s not dwell on the travel schedule right now,” Dorothy interrupted, though her smile was bright. She turned to Levi, her eyes practically sparkling. “I only care about what happens once we get there. The dress arrived at the estate yesterday, dear. Mother says the lace is breathtaking.”
“It is,” Marie said. “French chantilly. The train alone took three seamstresses a month. You’ll look stunning, my dear.”
“I can’t wait for you to see it,” Dorothy whispered, squeezing Levi’s hand. “I’ve dreamed about walking down that aisle since I was little. And now… in two weeks, I’ll be Mrs. Ackerman.”
Levi glanced at her hand. The diamond sparkled under the chandelier, almost glaringly bright.
“Two weeks,” he repeated, keeping his voice steady. The knot in his chest didn’t ease.
“It’ll be a spectacle,” Kenny said, eyes flicking to Levi. “Just make sure you don’t trip walking down the aisle. The Ackermans have a reputation, you know?”
“I think I can manage a straight line,” Levi replied sarcastically, pressing his lips into a thin smile as he met Kenny’s gaze without flinching.
“Good,” Kenny said, setting down his glass. “The Smiths might host the party, but the guests are coming to see the Ackerman heir. All eyes will be on you.”
“As they should,” Dorothy said. “The Philadelphia Inquirer is sending a photographer. We must look perfect.”
She leaned closer, smoothing his sleeve. “We’ve spoken to the tailor about the suit you’ll wear, Levi. I told him to adjust it before the wedding. I intend to make sure we look the part. By the time we leave that church, every woman in America will envy me.”
“…Right,” he said quietly, taking a sip.
He set it down and sat still, listening as Dorothy rattled off reporters and socialites.
“Well,” Erwin announced after a few minutes, checking the time. “It’s getting late. We have trunks moving early tomorrow and boarding at ten. We need to be fresh.”
Erwin pushed his chair back, signaling the end of the evening.
They walked out of the dining room, leaving the noise of the party behind and entering the silence of the hotel corridors.
When they reached the wing of suites, everyone went to their own room.
Levi walked Dorothy to her door. He intended to bow and leave her there, but as she unlocked it, she tightened her grip on his arm, pulling him across the threshold.
“Wait, don't go yet,” she said. “I need you to settle a debate. Mother insists I wear the pearls for the boarding tomorrow, but I think the emeralds suit me better.”
She didn't wait for him to answer. She looped her arm through his and pulled. Dragging him into the room and pressing the door shut.
“Give me just a second,” she said, already turning away from him. “I think I left them on the vanity.”
She disappeared into the adjoining dressing room. Levi stood alone in the center of the room. Letting out a long, silent exhale, the mask finally slipping. He walked over to the tall window and pulled back the curtain.
The streets were freezing outside, with only a few streetlamps lighting it.
It had been two years, yet the memory of that night still lingered in the back of his head. He tried to focus on the buildings outside, but his eyes kept drifting to his own reflection in the glass.
He didn’t look all that different. That was the irony of it.
Even at his worst he had always maintained a put together appearance. After all, he had always been the pristine Ackerman heir. Expected to look composed, no matter how much poison ran through his veins.
But the difference was there, just under the surface.
He had given it all up. The drinking, the drugs, the parties… The reckless teenager who lived for the chaos was dead. In his place stood a man who was sober, composed, and terrifyingly empty.
The sound of footsteps broke the silence, but he didn't turn.
He stayed facing the night, listening as Dorothy walked over to the full length mirror behind him, studying her own reflection.
“What do you think?”
He finally turned from the window. Dorothy stood straight with her head held high, waiting for him to respond.
There was no denying she was stunning. Her blonde hair was pinned up without a single strand out of place, and her eyes bright. She looked like a prize to be won. Everyone told him that. That she was the perfect match, the woman who would finally settle him down. But looking at her, Levi didn't feel lucky. She was flawless, immaculate, and utterly suffocating.
“I think the emeralds are fine,” Levi said.
The lie came easily. In truth, he hadn't even looked at them.
They could have been diamonds, rubies, or river stones for all he cared. He simply knew that is what she wanted to hear.
“You’re right,” she said, her face bright as she held the gems against her throat. “They bring out the green in my dress. I’m so glad you agree.”
Levi offered a tight nod before turning his back on the room.
He faced the window again, staring out at the dark city. In the reflection, he saw her step closer and raise her hand, before she reached out and brushed a stray strand of dark hair from his brow.
The contact made him flinch, instinctively pulling back a fraction of an inch before catching himself. The reaction was sudden, a rejection his body made before his mind could check it. He shut his eyes tight, hoping she would mistake the recoil for a long blink or a shift in posture.
The hand lingered near his face for a second, then slowly lowered.
“Levi?” she murmured concerned. “Have you been sleeping at all?” She reached up again, this time just to trace the skin beneath his eye with her thumb. “These circles are so dark.”
He exhaled, and turned away from the cold glass, breaking her contact. Avoiding her gaze, he stepped past her and walked to the mirror.
“Just a long week,” he muttered, reaching up to loosen the bowtie at his throat. “I’ll be fine once we finally board.”
She tilted her head, studying him, refusing to let the conversation end there.
“You know,” she said lightly, glancing out the window, “Southampton isn’t exactly… charming. The docks, the warehouses… it all feels so gray and crowded. London has its energy, at least, but the coast here is nothing like Brighton or Bournemouth. I much prefer those places.”
Levi kept his eyes on the mirror, more to avoid her eyes than anything else. He didn’t care enough to form any real opinion.
“…Yeah,” he said after a second. “I guess.”
She waited, expecting more, but that was all he gave. Dorothy pressed her lips together, faintly annoyed at how quickly he shut the door on the conversation, but not annoyed enough to stop talking.
“You know… I haven’t rested well either,” she admitted.
She stepped away from the window, walking up behind him. Her hands slid slowly up his back, then slipped under his arms to wrap around his waist, pulling him tight against her. Making his entire bodxy stiffen.
“I’m still thinking about our engagement gala, once we arrive in Philadelphia,” she continued, watching his face in the mirror. “Father has already sent out six hundred invitations…”
Levi gave a small, forced nod, trying to appear interested or show some hint of excitement, though his posture made it clear he wasn’t thrilled at all.
He lowered his hands and covered hers. His thumb moving instinctively to brush against the cold, hard face of the diamond on her finger.
It was a massive stone, an heirloom passed down through his family for generations. It had belonged to his mother. Now, it sat on Dorothy’s hand. A symbol of the promise he had been forced to make.
He stood still for a beat, letting her hold him. Then he pressed down subtly, just enough to make her unclasp her fingers.
As her grip loosened, he turned to face her, but she didn’t give him the space he wanted. Instead, she stepped in close and wrapped her arms around his waist again, burying her face against his chest in a tight embrace.
“It will be wonderful. You’ll see,” she insisted, her voice muffled against his suit as she squeezed him. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”
Levi didn’t answer. He stayed still in her hold for a moment, breathing out slowly as he stared over her shoulder.
After a few seconds he carefully disentangled himself, his hands firm as he pulled her arms from his waist.
"I should let you rest," he said. "We have an early start tomorrow.”
Dorothy looked up at him, her smile softening, though she didn’t release his hand immediately.
"You’re right. We need all the sleep we can get."
He leaned in, pressing a brief, dry kiss to her forehead out of habit. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Levi," she whispered.
The door closed behing him and walked towards his own suite.
If Dorothy’s room was suffocating, his own was a tomb.
Inside, he took off his jacket and tossed it onto the armchair, then ran a hand through his hair, messing up the slicked back style he’d maintained all evening.
Silence.
That was the problem with sobriety. The silence wasn't peaceful at all. It gave his mind too much room to wander back to the rooftop, to the snow, to the blood on his hands. He could feel the sensation of it again, sticky and warm on his palms.
He looked at his hands. They were clean, but they felt filthy.
Levi squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face roughly, trying to scrub the feeling away. For a few seconds he sat, attempting to calm himself, but he couldn’t stay still. His leg began bouncing nervously, and his breathing grew faster.
He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his silver watch, clicking it open. The second hand tick was agonizingly slow. Dawn wasn't for another few hours.
‘I can’t do this,’ he thought.
He couldn't just sit here in this box for hours, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise so he could perform the role of the happy groom again. The walls felt like they were physically pressing in on him and the air was too still. He felt like an animal pacing a cage.
Abruptly, he stood and grabbed his coat from where he’d thrown it, not bothering to put his suit jacket back on. He didn’t check the mirror or fix his tie. He just needed out.
Needed something to distract himself.
The wind rattling against the windows was enough to tell him that it was freezing.
For the next two hours he moved through the hotel like a ghost. Sitting in an armchair in the empty library, staring at a unlit fireplace. He walked the long, carpeted corridors until the patterns on the floor blurred in his vision.
By the time he circled back toward the main stairwell, his need for distraction had started to fade into tiredness. He let out a frustrated sigh and reached into his coat pocket, pulling the watch out again.
It was past midnight. Maybe he should just go back upstairs, drink a glass of water, and force himself to stare at the ceiling until he passed out. Wandering the halls like a ghost wasn't going to fix anything.
He took a shortcut past the service elevators to avoid the night porter at the front desk, but a clinking sound stopped him.
At the far end of the corridor, near the kitchen service entrance, a room service trolley had been left unattended. It was stacked with dirty dinner trays, empty wine bottles, and baskets of leftover bread.
Standing over it was a girl in a chambermaid outfit.
The black dress was slightly too long for her, the hem dusting the floor, and the white apron was tied a little too tight at the waist. But it wasn’t her clothes that kept Levi’s attention, it was what she was doing.
She looked around, moving quickly. When she thought no one was watching, she stuffed two bread rolls into her pocket. Then an untouched apple. Then a handful of wrapped chocolates.
The girl reached for a third bread roll. Instead of putting it in her pocket, she brought it to her mouth and took a large, hungry bite.
Mid chew, she froze, slowly turning her head, meeting Levi’s eyes.
Her cheeks were puffed out with the bread. She stood there clutching a half eaten roll, looking like a squirrel caught in a garden.
For a long second, nobody moved. She just stared at him with wide eyes, her jaw set, waiting to see if he was going to yell.
Levi kept his hands deep in his coat pockets. His eyes dropped to the flakes of crust falling from her mouth onto the carpet.
“Tch. Filthy,” he muttered.
The girl blinked, caught off guard. “Hmm?!”
She made a muffled noise of confusion, then suddenly choked on the dry bread. She coughed violently, swallowed hard, then glared at him.
“Who are you calling filthy?!” she snapped, her voice raspy.
Levi raised a brow. She was glaring at him with zero hesitation. No apology, no lowered eyes. She had a lot of nerve for a servant.
"You," Levi said, his eyes flicking to the crumbs on the floor.
"Look at the mess you made."
"I'm taking my break," she said defensively, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Levi’s eyes flicked from the bread in her hand to the boots peeking out from under her dress, scuffed and worn, not the clean shoes the chambermaids usually wore.
“This is your break?” he said flatly. “Eating someone’s leftovers in the hallway. You’re only making more work for yourself.”
The girl stiffened. She glanced down at the crumbs on the floor, then back up at him, her guard going up instantly.
“I'll clean it up, alright?” she snapped, her voice sharp and defensive.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither moving or saying anything.
“So… are you going to report me, or are you just going to stand there and stare?”
“I don’t work here,” Levi said, looking away from her. “If you’re hungry, just eat. I don't care.”
He nodded vaguely at the basket she had been raiding.
“If you’re going to steal the bread, at least take the ones on the bottom. The top layer is usually stale.”
The girl paused. She looked at the roll in her hand, gave it a squeeze, and realized it was indeed hard as a rock.
She looked back at Levi, searching his face for a trick. She dropped the stale roll back onto the tray.
Without breaking eye contact, she reached into the basket and snatched two fresh ones from the bottom, shoving them into her pocket.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
Levi didn’t bother responding. He simply glanced away.
She adjusted her apron, her eyes flicking toward the exit behind him. Then she looked at him. With the expensive coat and exhausted posture. An opportunity she couldn't ignore.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, stepping away from the cart. “I have chores to finish.”
She walked towards him. She didn't shrink away or hug the wall like a servant should. She walked straight down the center of the corridor, forcing him to either move or hold his ground.
Levi didn't move. He stood like a statue in her path, hands deep in his pockets.
She stopped right in front of him, invading his personal space.
He could’ve stepped back, but he didn’t.
Levi looked at her, really seeing her for the first time.
He disliked that standing this close made him more aware of her than he should’ve been. He couldn’t quite name what it was, only that she had something that drew the eye.
She looked at his face, then noticed his coat. Her brow furrowed slightly in a look of concern.
“You know. For someone so concerned with cleanliness, you’re a bit of a mess yourself.”
Levi raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed. “How so?”
“Your collar is all twisted,” she said gently.
Before Levi could respond, she reached out. Her hand moved toward his neck, intending to flip the lapel of his coat.
Levi’s reaction was instant. His hand snapped out of his pocket, catching her wrist inches from his chest. His grip was tight, stopping her dead.
“Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice low. His eyes were cold, filled with warning.
The girl barely flinched at the speed or the violence of the grab. For some reason she didn’t even look offended. She looked at her trapped wrist, then up at his face with wide, innocent eyes, offering him a small apologetic smile.
“Sorry,” she said softly. “Habit. I just thought I’d help. It’s my job after all.”
“Do it somewhere else,” he muttered.
Levi released her arm instantly, wiping his hand on his coat as if he regretted the contact.
She rubbed her wrist, her expression blank. She stepped around him, putting distance between them immediately.
“You should try to get some sleep,” she said as she walked away. “You look like you need it.”
Then she was gone, slipping around the corner in silence.
Levi stood alone in the corridor, staring at the empty space where she had been. He frowned, brushing the spot on his coat where she had almost touched him.
‘Strange girl.’
Levi exhaled through his nose. Annoying as it was, she was probably right. They would be boarding in a few hours, and he couldn’t afford to be exhausted on top of everything else.
He turned away and made his way upstairs.
Inside his room, he shrugged the coat off his shoulders. As he went to hang it over the back of the armchair, he instinctively reached into the side pocket to retrieve the watch and place it on the nightstand.
His fingers met nothing but empty fabric.
Levi paused.
He frowned, patting the outside of the pocket.
Flat.
He switched hands, checking the left pocket.
Empty.
A spike of adrenaline shot through his stomach. He dropped the coat onto the chair and immediately patted his trouser pockets.
Nothing.
He checked the back pockets, checked the inside pocket of the coat again, jamming his hand deep into the lining.
Nothing.
He stood in the middle of the room scanning the floor. Had it fallen out? Had he left it on the bed? No. He remembered checking the time downstairs
He patted his chest, checking for a shirt pocket that didn't exist. He checked his trousers again, harder this time, slapping the fabric as if force would make it appear.
It was gone.
Levi’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His mind raced backward, replaying the last twenty minutes. The stairs. The lobby. The corridor.
He went still. His breath hitched in his throat, his chest tightened.
“That little…” he grunted under his breath.
He replayed the moment.
‘Your collar is all twisted.’
She had reached for his neck and he had grabbed her wrist. He had been so focused on stopping her hand, so focused on keeping her from touching him, that he hadn't felt a thing at his waist.
It was a classic misdirection. The kind used by street scum. And he had fallen for it like a tourist.
He stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
The lobby was dead quiet. Behind the reception desk, the night clerk was slumped in his chair, fighting to stay awake.
His head bobbed, his chin hitting his chest before he jerked awake, blinked twice, and slowly started to drift off again.
The sharp sound of heavy footsteps aproaching made him jump.
The clerk scrambled to sit up, adjusting his posture as a dark figure loomed over the desk.
"S-Sir?" the clerk at the reception desk stammered, his voice thick with sleep. He squinted, taking in the furious guest.
"Mr. Ackerman? Is... is there a problem with your—”
“The maid,” Levi said, his voice low and sharp enough to snap the clerk awake.
"I beg your pardon?”
"The maid working the ground floor corridor," Levi demanded, leaning his hands on the desk. "Where is she?”
The clerk blinked, looking utterly bewildered. "The... maid? Sir, the housekeeping staff went off shift at eleven. There shouldn't be anyone on the floors right now except the night porters.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me. I just spoke to her. About this tall. Hair up. Chambermaid’s uniform. Wearing boots that look scuffed…?”
The clerk stared at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Sir... I assure you, we don't employ anyone fitting that description. The female staff are all in the dormitory wing for the night. We have strict curfews.”
Levi went dead silent. He just stared at the clerk, his face frozen in a look of cold, absolute disbelief.
The realization hit him. The boots. The eating on the job. The completely unprofessional attitude.
She wasn't a bad employee. She wasn't even an employee!
The silence stretched out for a few seconds. The clerk began to sweat under the intensity of his gaze, fidgeting with his tie, terrified by the look Levi was giving him.
"Get me the supervisor. Now!"
…
"Mr. Ackerman," the supervisor stammered, wringing his hands together. "I cannot express how mortified we are. The Ackerman family has been our most esteemed guests for years. To think such a violation occurred under our roof...”
"Save the speech," Levi cut him off. He was pacing in front of the desk. "Where is she?"
"We... we don't know," the manager admitted, flinching. "However, the night porter did a sweep of the perimeter immediately after your report. We found something near the service alley."
He gestured to the desk clerk, who nervously lifted a bundle of black and white fabric from behind the counter.
"A uniform," the manager explained. "One of our spare laundry sets. It was discarded in a crate outside the kitchen entrance. She must have shed it the moment she exited the building.”
Levi stopped pacing and stared at the pile of fabric. He recognized the apron. It was the same one she had stuffed the food into.
He let out a sharp, incredulous scoff. “Right,” Levi said. “A thief with manners. She robs the guests and gives the hotel its uniform back.”
"It... it would seem she didn't want to be identified on the street, sir," the manager tried to rationalize.
“So she walked in, took a uniform, and walked right back out,” Levi said flabbergasted. “And no one noticed?!”
"We will alert the police, of course," the manager said quickly, sweating now. "But, Mr. Ackerman... given that your ship boards in mere hours, the chances of recovering the item before you depart are... slim."
Levi turned slowly to face the man. "Slim?"
"But!" The manager raised his hands defensively. "The hotel takes full responsibility. We will, of course, reimburse you for the loss. Immediately."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook, his hands shaking slightly as he unscrewed a pen.
"If you could just tell me the make of the watch? Was it gold? Swiss?" The manager looked up, trying to offer a reassuring smile. "Name the price, Mr. Ackerman. We will write the check right now. Double the value, for the inconvenience."
Levi stared at the pen hovering over the paper.
The man thought he could buy it. Just like Dorothy’s father. Just like everyone in this godforsaken life thought a check could fix a hole in reality.
"Put the pen away," Levi said.
"Sir, I insist," the manager pressed, mistaking his silence for negotiation. "We want to make this right. We can have the cash in your hand before breakfast."
"I said put it away!" Levi slammed his hand down on the desk, making the manager jump back and drop the pen.
"I don't want your money. You can't just write a check for it."
"If… if was just a watch that got stolen, sir," the manager whispered, trembling. "We can replace it."
"No. It wasn't just—" He cut himself off.
He looked at the supervisor's fearful, sweaty face. He looked at the clerk, who was staring at him like he was insane.
They wouldn't understand. If he told them it was his father’s, the one the man had checked every day of his life, they would just apologize more. They would offer more money.
Levi looked at the clock on the wall.
The police wouldn't find her. Not in the dark, and certainly not before the ship cast off in the morning. She was likely miles away by now. And if he dragged the law into this it would mean hours of questions. It would mean police officers swarming the lobby at breakfast when the Dorothy and the other guests were coming down.
The first thing they would ask wouldn't be about the thief. It would be: What were you doing wandering the corridors in the middle of the night?
It would create a scene. He also wasn’t eager to admit that someone had lifted a pocketwatch clean off him without his noticing.
He pulled back from the counter, standing up straight. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further. Levi felt a sudden, crushing wave of exhaustion. The anger drained out of him, leaving him hollow.
“Forget it. I’m going to sleep,” Levi muttered.
“Sir?” the manager blinked, confused. “But the police—”
“She's long gone. Keep your money,” Levi said, turning his back on them and starting to walk away.
“But Mr. Ackerman—”
“I said forget it!”