Chapter 4 - The Framed Truth
The boutique exploded into murmurs.
The customers who had been watching in stunned awe now leaned forward, their eyes darting between Daniel and Emily. The drama had breached the boundary of corporate embezzlement; it had turned into a full-scale sabotage.
Emily felt the room tilt beneath her feet. “That’s a lie. I’ve never even held the key to the private vault.”
“She’s lying!” Daniel shouted, scrambling to his feet, clutching the edge of a counter. “She knew an audit was coming! She saw me reviewing the registers this morning and panicked! She stole the piece from the safe during the ten o’clock inventory shift and stashed it in her bag to smuggle it out at closing!”
Madeline seized upon the distraction instantly. “I knew it! Dad, look at her! She’s broke! Her shoes are scuffed, her jacket is worn out—she probably planned this entire argument just to divert attention from her own locker!”
Emily looked at Richard. Her throat felt tight, suffocating. “Mr. Whitmore, I swear to you on my mother’s life, I have never stolen a penny from this store. I have never touched the vault.”
Richard didn’t answer. His face had hardened into stone once more. “Evelyn. Take Miss Carter, Daniel, and two security officers to the staff locker room. Bring Miss Carter’s bag here. Open it in front of me.”
“Mr. Whitmore, please,” Emily whispered. “My mother’s prescription papers are in that bag. My overdue rent notice is in that bag. But there is no watch. I swear to you.”
“Then you have nothing to fear from opening it, Miss Carter,” Richard replied, neither confirming nor denying his suspicion.
Two minutes later, Evelyn returned to the showroom floor. Behind her walked the security guard, carrying Emily’s faded canvas tote bag, alongside Daniel, who wore a sickly, triumphant smirk.
Evelyn set the bag on the counter.
“Open it,” Richard commanded.
Evelyn unzipped the canvas bag. She reached inside, pulling out an apple, a battered plastic water bottle, a small spiral notebook filled with customer sizes and preferences, and an envelope stamped with a bright red *FINAL NOTICE* from a property management company.
Then, her fingers hit the bottom.
Evelyn pulled out a small, black velvet pouch.
Madeline gasped dramatically. “There! See? What did I tell you? A thief!”
Daniel let out a breathless, manic laugh. “What did I say, Mr. Whitmore? Code 101 wasn't just me! She was skimming the floor, and she was stealing the hard luxury assets! Call the police on her too!”
Emily’s vision blurred. The velvet pouch was Aster & Rowe inventory packaging. She had never seen it before in her life. “No… no, that’s impossible. I didn't put that there. I swear I didn't!”
Evelyn loosened the drawstring and tipped the contents onto the counter.
A platinum wristwatch set with brilliant-cut diamonds slid across the mahogany. Its retail tag was still attached: *$42,000.*
Emily stepped back until her spine hit the POS terminal. The world seemed to collapse in on itself. Her mind raced to her mother, alone in their cramped apartment, waiting for the medication that Emily was supposed to buy after her shift. If she was arrested for grand larceny, there would be no bail. There would be no trial for months. Her mother would die alone. Her brother Ethan would have to drop out of school.
“I didn't do this,” Emily choked out, tears finally spilling over her eyelashes. “I didn't do this…”
Richard stared down at the forty-two-thousand-dollar watch. He picked it up by the strap, inspecting the clasp under the boutique lights.
Then he looked at Daniel.
“You’re very thorough, Daniel,” Richard remarked casually.
“I protect your assets, sir,” Daniel said, his chest puffing out, believing he had miraculously engineered his escape. “I knew she was trouble the moment I hired her. I was building a case against her—”
“Miss Carter,” Richard interrupted, turning to Emily. “What time did your shift start today?”
“Nine… nine in the morning, sir,” Emily stammered, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“And what time did you arrive at the store?”
“Eight-thirty. I opened the floor registers.”
Richard turned to Evelyn. “Evelyn, when was the private vault last accessed according to the biometric log?”
Evelyn tapped her tablet. “The vault was accessed today at eleven-fifteen AM. Authorized via master keycard.”
Richard walked slowly toward Daniel. “Miss Carter was on the showroom floor assisting customers at eleven-fifteen AM. We have thirty cameras in this salon. She never left the register.”
Daniel’s smile froze.
“Furthermore,” Richard continued, his voice dropping into a register that made the hairs on the back of Emily’s neck stand up, “the Cartier private collection vault was updated with silent surveillance cameras three weeks ago as part of our internal security overhaul. Cameras that you, Daniel, were not informed about.”
Daniel’s jaw dropped.
May you like
Richard leaned in until his face was inches from Daniel’s. “Would you like me to pull up the video feed of you slipping that velvet pouch into your suit pocket at eleven-eighteen AM? Or would you prefer to watch the footage of you walking into the employee locker room during Miss Carter’s lunch break at twelve-forty-five?”
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