The officers looked to me. I took out my authorized user card and the bank’s limit letter and handed them over.
“Officers, this is my authorized card. The banking app shows the transactions, all approved by my account.”
They called the bank on the spot. The rep’s voice came crisp over the line:
“Mr. Johnson is an authorized user on this account and has full spending privileges. Today’s charges were properly authorized.”
Jason’s face went sheet-white. Then his gaze snagged on my tux like a lifeline.
“Wait! That tux is mine! Custom Italian couture—I lost it from my car yesterday. He stole it!”
He’d barely finished when the click of high heels cut through the lobby—Emily had arrived.
Wearing a sequined gown and immaculate makeup, she hurried toward Jason, worry in her voice.
“Jason, what happened? You said you were in trouble…”
“You’re just in time,” Jason grabbed her hand and jabbed a finger at my tux.
“Look! That’s the Italian custom piece you helped me order. I left it in my car yesterday and it went missing—he stole it! Tell them!”
All eyes swung to Emily. I looked at her too, clinging to one last, absurd sliver of faith.
The provenance of the tux was clear. She wouldn’t lie—not to my face.