I told Preston the story casually, watching his face the entire time. “Caleb pointed at a woman near the bakery and said she comes to our house while I’m at work.” I laughed as though it were a child’s imagination. “He even said she plays in our bedroom.” For just a second, Preston’s arms stiffened around me. His smile remained, but his eyes changed. “That’s hilarious,” he said a moment too late. “He certainly has an imagination.””

I went to prepare dinner, pretending nothing was wrong. But I had noticed two things. The woman wearing my stolen sapphire necklace had looked genuinely confused when Caleb recognized her, and Preston had reacted strangely when I mentioned our bedroom. That night, after he fell asleep, I opened the security app connected to our hallway camera. I scrolled back through weeks of footage. Then I saw the woman from the bakery unlocking my front door with a key.