Lucille's face went white.
Jane glared at me.
“What are you doing, guarding against thieves?”
“Yes.”
I looked at them.
“A gold bracelet goes missing, and we're supposed to just assume everyone's innocent?”
Jane reached for Rose's little backpack.
I blocked her.
“Rose's things. Nobody touches them without permission.”
Jane let out a cold laugh.
“Guilty conscience?”
Rose gripped the hem of my dress.
“Mommy, I didn't take it.”
I stroked her hair.
“I know.”
I turned to Lucille.
“Go ahead. Search it yourself.”
She stepped back.
“I wouldn't dare. You'd just say I planted it.”
“So you're aware that's a possibility.”
Jane snapped：“Keith, you do it.”
Keith unzipped the backpack.
Colored markers. Stickers. A small water bottle. A drawing pad.
Then his hand stopped.
Rose's voice trembled：“Daddy, what's wrong?”
He pulled a gold bracelet from the side pocket.
Lucille shrieked and lunged for it.
“My bracelet!”
Rose burst into tears.
“It wasn't me, I didn't put it there.”
Jane pointed at me.
“Nellie, what do you have to say for yourself?”
I stared at that gold bracelet, and every blood-soaked memory from my last life came flooding back.
Lucille clutched the bracelet to her chest, sobbing.
“Nellie, I've always been so good to Rose. She steals from me, and you teach her to lie about it.”
I walked right up to her.
“You say Rose stole it? Then call the police. Right now.”
Her crying stopped on a dime.
Keith grabbed my arm.
“Enough. We found it. Just apologize and let it go.”
I turned to him.
“So you think Rose stole it too?”
He looked away.
“She's five. She probably just doesn't know any better.”
Rose cried out：“Daddy, I didn't!”
Keith didn't pick her up.
Lucille reached for the ring light again.
“Nellie, all I'm asking for is a gesture of good faith.”
“What kind of gesture?”
“Admit in front of everyone that you failed to raise your child properly. Then put it in writing that Rose will never touch my things again.”
I laughed.
“And if I refuse?”
Jane's voice turned to ice：“Then don't think about taking Rose out of this house tonight.”
Lucille leaned in close, her voice pitched so only I could hear：
“Don't be stubborn, Nellie. A crying child makes the best footage.”
She pulled back and resumed wailing, louder than Rose.
Keith looked at me, exhaustion carved into every line of his face.
“Nellie, just admit it for now.”
I asked：“If I admit it, will you believe me?”
Silence.
I asked again：“If I don't admit it, will you protect Rose?”
Still silence.
I held Rose tighter.
“Fine. I'll write it.”
Lucille's eyes lit up.
On the first line, I wrote：
I, Nellie Fox, am today being coerced into admitting that my five-year-old daughter committed theft.
Lucille's expression changed.
“What the hell is that?”
I looked at her.
“You wanted my attitude. There it is. Coerced.”
“Rewrite it!”
Jane slammed the paper down in front of me.
“Nellie, today is my birthday dinner. Are you trying to humiliate me on purpose?”
I set down the pen.
“You're the ones who told me to write it.”
Lucille shook her head, tears streaming.
“Nellie, if you send that out, people will think we forced you.”
I looked at her.
“Didn't you?”
Rose hiccupped through her sobs：“I didn't take it.”
Gloria Austin rolled her eyes.
“Every kid who steals says they didn't.”
My chest seized.
In her last life, Rose had heard those words far too many times.
