Falsely Accused, Truly Betrayed

A couple of uniformed security guards sieged me, and the sales clerk pointed at me with disgust. "Right here—this dumb thief. Who in their right mind would dare to steal a ten-million-dollar necklace from us?"

I was stunned by the astronomical figure that came out of his mouth. My wife, Madeline Quinn, was no more than an ordinary woman. How did she afford a necklace with such an exorbitant price tag?

Before I could make sense of the situation, the security guards grabbed my arms and forcefully pinned me to the counter.

Feeling the near-dislocation of my elbow joints, I yelled, "Let go of me! You're making a mistake! I'm not a thief; I'm just here to collect a necklace!"

"The next time you say that, take a good look at your shabby, pathetic state. Forget about affording a ten-million-dollar necklace—do you even have a hundred-dollar bill, loser?"

I fought back, my tone filled with urgency. "I didn't steal it! Why would you accuse me of that?"

The clerk let out a sneer and pulled the jewelry box from my pocket, the one holding the necklace.

He looked down on me, quite literally, and said, "Well, we've got both the thief and the goods. Let's see what kind of excuse you'll come up with for the cops."

Hearing the commotion, other clerks and customers began casting disdainful gazes my way, murmuring to each other, "I don't understand. People still steal these days?"

"I bet he isn't in his right mind. The least he could've done before trying to steal was dress the part. What a deluded freak."

"People will do anything but work for money nowadays."

Everyone's eyes landed on my washed-out clothes and the fraying seams of my shoes. Their mocking stares pierced me like knives.

"I'm not a thief! Your manager called me yesterday—let me speak to him."

The clerk scoffed. "What a nutcase. Who do you think you are? You think our manager would take the time out of his day to call someone like you?"

He turned to the onlookers and other clerks, gesturing mockingly. "Our manager only deals with VVIPs. If you're going to make something up, at least try to make it convincing."

"I swear he called me and told me to come over."

Before I could even wonder why the manager would attend to Madeline, I thought of the call logs from yesterday. "I have yesterday's call records right here. You'll see if he'd called!"

I broke free from the security guards' grips and pulled out my phone to search for the call history. I remembered vividly that the manager had called three times.

I had even thought it was a scam at first, but I only came here after double-checking the information.

The clerk silently watched as I scrolled through the logs. Leaning in to glance at the screen, he snorted coldly. "Dude, where? All I see are outgoing calls. None are from our manager at all."

The other clerks burst out laughing.

"That was a good lie, actually. He almost had me!"

"Man, he should've gone above and beyond. I was waiting to see that call log!"

"Come on, he's obviously stalling."

My heart started racing, but I didn't stop what I was doing.

I made numerous calls to customers while delivering food from yesterday to today. If they could just give me some time, I could find the manager's calls!

The security guard grabbed my arm again, his voice getting impatient. "Thief or not, we'll let the cops decide."

As they pushed and dragged me, I mustered all my strength and shouted, "I'm not! I want to see your manager! He's the one who told me to come pick up the necklace!"

At that moment, a firm voice rang out. "I'm the manager. Sir, there's only one person I called yesterday, and it was Ms. Quinn… Who are you?"

The sharply dressed man glanced at my worn clothes with obvious contempt. His cold words froze me in place.

Could the woman he mentioned happen to be my wife, Madeline Quinn?