Ethan was supposed to be in school.
My brain scrambled for explanations—fraud, theft, anything—but these were in-person purchases. Someone had physically used the card.
And then there was Lauren.
Three days ago, she’d been in my house alone.
That thought hit like a punch.
I left work immediately. The drive home felt endless. Every red light made my pulse spike.
When I walked in, Ethan was sitting on the couch, still wearing his backpack, staring at the floor.
“Hey,” I said softly.
His eyes were red. He looked up like he’d been holding everything in.
“Grandma texted me,” he said. “A lot.”
“What did she say?”
“That I’m a thief. That I embarrassed everyone.”
My chest burned. “Ethan… did you use the card?”
His reaction was immediate. “No,” he said. “I haven’t even seen it.”
“Where is it?”
“I thought you took it back,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t find it weeks ago.”
That was it.
Everything clicked.
Lauren.
I stood slowly. “Lauren,” I said.
Ethan blinked. “Aunt Lauren?”
I didn’t answer. I was already thinking ahead—timeline, access, motive.
This wasn’t just theft.
It was a setup.
I printed the bank statement and called the store.
The next morning, I stood in the manager’s office watching security footage.