A step closer to the truth
Troy's POV
I walked over to the desk where he was still beaming with a smile too wide and dropped a crisp bill across the counter. I never checked the amount, didn’t care.
“ I need directions to Sara Wellington’s old room,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Is it occupied?”
“One minute, sir,” he sang, pocketing the cash with a grin. He tapped at his computer, then looked up. “Yes, it’s taken, but I can arrange anything you need—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I just want to look around.”
He whistled for a ward cleaner, a small kid who couldn’t have been older than eighteen. “Take Mr. Armstrong to Room 202,” he said, and the boy nodded eagerly, leading me to the elevator. We ascended to the third floor. The corridor was alive with cleaners mopping, medics wrapping up
