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, forcing my voice steady, “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 was when it clicked—this wasn’t random. It was organized.
I backed toward the door. “The police will want to see this.”
For a second, doubt flickered across her face. Then I slipped past her and ran.
Down the hall, I found Sophie still waiting. “It’s okay,” I told her softly. “We’re going to get help.”
At the front desk, I demanded the director and the police. The bag was handed over, and I gave my statement as everything around me blurred.
Sophie stayed close the entire time.
When we finally left, she looked up at me and asked, “Did we help Grandma?”
I held her tight. “Yes,” I said, hoping it was true.