The officer, a tall woman with a notepad, raised her voice over the murmurs. “Evelyn Hartman? We have a warrant regarding fraudulent charges made in your name and your husband’s business.” Evelyn’s face drained of color. “This is a misunderstanding,” she snapped, clutching her pearls. Her husband stared at the floor. Guests began whispering, and someone near me lowered a phone. Then the officer turned and said, “We also need to speak with the person who placed the order for the dress.”

Every head turned toward Evelyn. My husband, Daniel, took my hand and stepped forward. “That would be me, officer,” he said quietly. “I called you this morning.” Evelyn spun toward her son, her mouth open, but no sound came out. The officer nodded and opened a folder. “Mr. Hartman, you said you have records of what your mother has been doing. Please show everyone.”