Stella’s POV
She said what?
I blinked, not sure I’d heard right.
“Call the police,” Freya repeated, her voice clear, cutting through the hum of whispers like a blade. “Let them check for fingerprints.”
I nearly dropped my fork.
From where I sat, I could see the shock ripple through the cafeteria. Even the manager looked stunned. He opened his mouth like he might object again—but then closed it, uncertain.
I leaned back slightly, my posture calm, but inside, my stomach twisted.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
She was supposed to panic. Cry. Get flustered and beg for a second chance. She was supposed to make a scene that made her look guilty. The whole cafeteria would see her as a thief, and the manager would fire her on the spot. Clean. Easy. Done.
But now?
Now everyone was looking at her like she might actually be the victim.