Tanya stepped into the room, her expression shifting from polite to sharp the moment she saw the bag in my hands.
“That’s not yours,” she said.
“No,” I replied, steadying my voice, “but it’s not yours either.”
She moved closer, blocking the doorway. “You should put that back. Things get misplaced.”
“This is theft,” I said.
Her tone dropped. “Don’t make a scene. Think about your mother.”
That’s when I realized this wasn’t random—it was organized.
I backed toward the door. “The police will want to see this.”
For a moment, uncertainty crossed her face. Then I slipped past her and ran.
Down the hall, Sophie was still waiting. “It’s okay,” I told her. “We’re getting help.”
At the front desk, I demanded the director and police. The bag was handed over, and I gave my statement as everything blurred around me.
Sophie stayed by my side the entire time.
When we finally left, she looked up and asked, “Did we help Grandma?”
I held her close. “Yes,” I said, hoping it was true.
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