The way Brooke’s hand hovered near Clare’s bag without touching it. The way Daniel nodded once—small, almost imperceptible. Then Clare’s chair bumped the table slightly as a server passed. The bag tipped. A small sachet slid out onto the floor. No one at the table reacted. No surprise. No confusion. No glances downward.
Another server bent, picked it up, frowned—and walked it straight to the manager. The room was silent when the footage stopped. Clare pressed a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t put that there,” she said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t—I swear—” The officer turned to her fully now. “We know.” Something inside Clare gave way.