But by then, nobody needed it anymore.

Lina smiled, wiping her hands. The Sentinel Key turned up a week later—inside Mrs. Okonkwo’s vacuum bag. The drone hadn’t taken it. The cleaner had bumped the lockbox while mopping, and the dongle had fallen behind a tool chest.

“Jai, did you borrow the Sentinel again?” she called out.

But the lockbox was empty. A single black USB port cover lay beside it. Someone had pulled the key out—not broken in, but removed deliberately.