is your employee reimbursement profile doing on a failed prepaid activation?”

Mason’s expression barely moved.

His eyelids lowered, then rose.

“Old test profile.

The system recycles labels.”

“Does it recycle dates too?”

Lila scrolled down.

Four earlier reversals appeared beneath the first transaction.

Each had been started under a different cashier ID.

All had moved through the same wallet.

Mason Pike’s.

The young cashier in the next lane made a sound under her breath.

Mara looked at Grant.

For the first time since Mara had arrived, her brother seemed unsure where to put his hands.

“This is not me,” he said.

“I brought cards.

She had the code.”

Nora stepped closer to Mara, pressing her injured wrist against her chest.

“Mom, please don’t let them say I did this.”

That sentence stripped away every remaining piece of Mara’s hesitation.

For years, she had been the sister who kept peace.

The daughter who smoothed things over.

The woman who accepted half-apologies because holidays were easier when no one named the rot under the table.

Now her child was looking at her with a bruise and asking not to be sacrificed.

Mara placed one arm in front of Nora.

“We are not leaving,” she told Lila.

“Preserve every file, every camera angle, every login.”

Lila nodded once.

“I already locked the terminal from my tablet.”

Mason’s voice cooled.

“You do not have authority to launch an investigation.”

“I have authority to protect the front end.”

“Then protect it from a scene.”

Grant seized on that.

“Exactly.

Nora is a minor.

We’re family.

This can be handled privately.”

Mara looked at him.

“You put your hands on her in public.

You don’t get privacy now.”

His face reddened again.

“You always do this.

You always act like I’m some monster.”

“No,” Mara said.

“I acted like you weren’t.

That was my mistake.”

A security guard named Victor approached from the front doors.

He was broad, gray-bearded, and moved with careful slowness.

Lila pointed to Mason.

“Please stand by the office hallway.”

Mason gave a dry laugh.

“You’re asking security to watch me?”

“I’m asking him to make sure nobody tampers with evidence.”

Mason’s eyes flicked toward the hallway.

Mara noticed.

Nora noticed too.

“He’s leaving,” Nora said quietly.

Victor shifted, blocking the hall.

For a few seconds, the only sound was the register and the automatic doors.

Then Grant broke.

“You said the kid’s login would take the hit,” he blurted, pointing at Mason.

“You said you’d buried the others.”

The young cashier in lane three dropped the bread.

The toddler near the cart began to cry, startled by the sound.

His mother scooped him up and hurried away.

Customers drifted backward, pretending not to watch while watching everything.

Mason closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them, all the polish was gone.

“Grant,” he said softly, “stop talking.”

Lila’s face hardened.

“Everyone heard that.”

Grant looked sick.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” Mara said.

Her voice sounded strange to her, lower and steadier than she felt.

Mason turned toward Lila.

“You are making a career-ending mistake.”

“No,” Lila said.

“I think I am watching one.”

A young woman from lane four stepped out from behind her register.

Her name tag read Tessa.

She was nineteen at most, with dark