“I figured you wouldn’t notice,” Silas admitted, his voice cracking.

“You don’t really check the loading dock yourself anymore.”

Corwin felt a quiet, burning anger — not only for the money, but because this young man’s scheme had very nearly cost an honest woman her name and her job in front of her whole team.

The two thefts sat side by side in his mind, and the contrast was its own kind of lesson.

Silas — young, able-bodied, trusted with a real position and a real salary — had stolen from him coldly, for profit, and covered it by letting the blame drift toward whoever looked convenient.

Espe — old, underpaid, carrying three lives on a pension — had stolen nothing, had in fact been hauling charity home to keep her family alive, and had borne his suspicion in dignified silence.