The refrigerator was empty. My wife’s hands were trembling. And upstairs, my daughter was livestreaming her new designer bag, bought with the money meant for food. “Dad won’t do anything,” Mia whispered to her boyfriend.

Everyone turned.

She stood there in a cream-colored robe, thin but steady.

Mia panicked instantly. “Mom, tell them the truth.”

Elena walked downstairs slowly.

“I said you could buy groceries,” she answered quietly.

“You’re confused.”

“No,” Elena replied. “I was hungry.”

The silence that followed felt unbearable.

Brent muttered, “This is just family drama.”

One officer answered coldly, “Theft is not family drama.”

The evidence package hit the table: bank statements, security footage, forged forms, resale receipts, witness testimony, medical reports, and recordings from the party itself.

Mia turned toward me in fury.

“You set me up!”