Her face shifted — confusion, fear, then anger. “Wait… are you accusing me, Dad?”
“I don’t want to. But I saw someone in a gray hoodie.”
“My gray hoodie,” she said, opening her closet. Empty hangers. “It’s been missing for two days.”
For illustrative purposes only
Something cold settled in my chest. I stormed downstairs. “Avery’s hoodie has been missing.”
Marisa didn’t flinch. “So?”
“So that could be anyone in the video.”
I asked her what code she saw entered. She dodged. And then I remembered: she had insisted on installing the camera. I opened the app. Minutes before the hooded figure appeared, the footage showed Marisa holding Avery’s hoodie. Then entering my room, opening the safe, holding up money to the camera with a triumphant smile.
I turned the phone toward her. “Explain this.”
“You don’t understand,” she snapped. “I was trying to save you.”
“By framing my daughter? By stealing from me?”
