“Apparently, someone thinks we’re running a child labor ring,” Caleb’s dad snapped, his temper bubbling to the surface. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”
“Of course not,” Caleb said, but his voice wavered slightly. His gaze flicked to me, and I could see the guilt and worry etched into his face.
“Whoever tipped them off is lying,” I said, my voice rising. “This isn’t about the law. It’s personal.”
The police continued their sweep, taking notes and speaking to patrons. Marie was arguing with one officer, her voice low but laced with fury. “We’ve been running this place clean for years. You’ve got no reason to be here.”
“It’s not up to me, ma’am,” the officer replied. “We’re just following protocol.”
The raid lasted less than an hour, but it felt like an eternity. By the time the officers left, the patrons had dispersed, and the bar felt emptier than it had in months. Caleb’s dad slammed a glass onto the counter, the sound shattering the heavy silence.
“This is on you,” he said, pointing a finger at me. “You’re the one who doesn’t belong here. Whoever tipped them off—this is your mess.”
“That’s not fair,” Caleb argued, stepping between us. “Emma didn’t do anything.”
“Didn’t she?” Caleb’s dad spat. “If she hadn’t been here, none of this would’ve happened.”
I wanted to defend myself, to scream that it wasn’t my fault, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I grabbed my bag and left, the sound of Caleb calling after me echoing in my ears. The cool night air stung my face, but it couldn’t erase the humiliation burning inside me.
Whoever tipped off the cops had planned this perfectly, and I didn’t need to guess who it was.