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The thief?

BELLA’s POV

Mary Jane and I were laughing like hyenas as we lounged on the patio, enjoying the warm summer afternoon. With tall glasses of lemonade in our hands, we exchanged stories, catching up on everything we had missed since I last saw her.

It felt good for her to be here.

As we chatted, MaryJane's animated gestures turned disastrous as she accidentally knocked her glass of lemonade off the table. Time seemed to slow down as the cup tumbled through the air, the liquid splashing in a wild arc that ended with a rather unfortunate collision – right onto Mr. Davis, my father-in-law, who was passing by.

I froze, horrified, my eyes locking onto Mr. Davis's white linen shirt that was now adorned with splotches of yellow.

Oops.

MaryJane rushed over bringing a handkerchief from her palazzo jeans and trying to take the stain off.

“I am so sorry sir I really didn’t mean to,” she begged profusely.

To my astonishment, Mr. Davis paused, his gaze shifting down to the mess on his shirt. Then,
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