My heart nearly stopped. “That’s a lie.”

“I know your inventory record. Nothing’s missing. But the complaint came with photographs.” She forwarded them.

The pictures showed several pharmacy bottles tucked inside my work bag — and I recognized the bag instantly, and the carpet beneath it.

It was Travis’s bedroom. The labels had been blurred, but the whole scene had plainly been staged to make me look guilty. “Who sent these?” I asked.

“It was anonymous, but the email may be traceable. You’re suspended while compliance investigates.”

Travis’s warning echoed in my head.