Panic didn’t solve problems.
First: the bank.
She called immediately, her voice crisp and controlled.
“Please connect me to the security department,” she said. “There have been unauthorized withdrawals from my account.”
The representative verified her identity and pulled up her file.
“Miss Hamilton,” the representative said after a moment, “large amounts have been wired overseas. We’ll put a hold on your accounts and begin an investigation immediately.”
Overseas.
Dubai.
Second: the police.
Olivia walked into the nearest precinct with her coffee still in her hand, the warmth of the cup grounding her as she explained calmly what happened.
“I need to file a report,” she said. “This is an international theft case. The perpetrators are currently headed to Dubai.”
The officer taking her statement looked up at her, surprised by her composure.
“Most victims panic,” he said. “You’re extraordinarily calm.”
“Panic doesn’t help solve problems,” Olivia replied.
Third: leverage.
Olivia knew one thing Eleanor and Vanessa did not—laws change when you cross borders.
And she also knew something else: Dubai did not treat foreign financial crimes as a small family dispute.
She went home and drafted an email to Dubai Police, providing names, passport details, flight information, and a clear explanation:
Two individuals from the United States had stolen funds without authorization and fled to Dubai.
She hit send.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Another message from Eleanor.
I took advantage of your hardworking nature. I wonder how many years it will take for you to save up again. We’ll be watching from our luxury hotel.
Olivia stared at the message.
And then, slowly, she smiled.
Not because she was amused.
Because Eleanor and Vanessa had underestimated her.
They thought she would break. They thought she would beg. They thought she would panic and freeze, making it easier for them to vanish into luxury.
They didn’t understand what ten years of discipline built into a person besides savings.
It built strategy.
Olivia returned to Coffee Corner and sat by the window, her coffee still warm.
She took a slow sip and watched commuters hurry past, snow crunching under boots.
“The laws in Dubai are very strict,” Olivia whispered to herself, voice calm as ice. “And you don’t understand me at all.”
Dubai International Airport looked like a glass cathedral—massive, bright, polished to a shine that made everything feel expensive.
After a fourteen-hour flight in first class, Eleanor and Vanessa stepped through the arrival gate with the ease of people who believed they belonged wherever money could buy a seat.
“I can’t believe it,” Vanessa said, grinning. “We’re really in Dubai.”
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“The money Olivia saved for ten years,” she whispered, almost reverent. “We get to spend it in an instant.”
Eleanor smiled, satisfaction softening her features.
“It’s all thanks to you,” she said, wrapping an arm around Vanessa’s shoulders. “Finding her account information on her computer—brilliant.”
Vanessa laughed. “She’s always so careful. But she forgot to lock her screen. Just once.”
Eleanor’s eyes glinted. “Just once is all it takes.”
They collected their luggage and moved toward immigration, already talking about their plans like children planning a holiday.
“First we’ll stay at the Burj Al Arab,” Eleanor said. “Tomorrow we start shopping. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton—everywhere.”
Vanessa checked her phone and frowned slightly.
“Olivia texted,” she said. “She just wrote, ‘Have fun.’”
Eleanor shrugged. “She’s probably in shock. She’ll react when she realizes we took everything.”
Vanessa smiled. “By then we’ll already be living in luxury.”
They approached the immigration counter.
An officer in traditional dress took their passports and scanned them, face expressionless. He typed something into his computer.
“Purpose of visit?” he asked.
“Tourism,” Eleanor answered smoothly. “We’ve come to experience the culture and luxury of this beautiful country.”
The officer’s fingers stopped moving.
He stared at the screen a moment longer than necessary.
Then he raised his eyes.
“Please wait,” he said.
Eleanor’s smile faltered. “Is there a problem?”
The officer didn’t answer. He stood, disappeared into another room.
Vanessa’s excitement flickered into unease. “What could be wrong?” she whispered.
A few minutes later, the officer returned with two police officers.
“Mrs. Eleanor Hamilton,” the officer said, voice flat. “Miss Vanessa Hamilton. You will be escorted to a separate room for special screening.”
“Special screening?” Eleanor laughed nervously. “Isn’t there some mistake?”
One officer stepped forward, his tone colder than the airport air conditioning.
“We have questions about your purpose for entering the country,” he said. “Please follow us with your luggage.”
Eleanor and Vanessa exchanged worried glances.
They followed.
They were led to a small room tucked away from the bright concourse, the kind of room designed to keep problems out of sight. A man in uniform waited inside. His badge read Police.
“I am Lieutenant Kareem,” he introduced himself in English. “I have questions about your purpose for entering the country.”
“As we said, tourism,” Eleanor replied, her voice tighter now.
Lieutenant Kareem opened a file and flipped through documents with practiced calm.
“According to a report from the United States,” he said, “you are suspects in a financial crime. Specifically, you are accused of illegally withdrawing funds from Olivia Hamilton’s account.”
The color drained from Eleanor’s face.
Vanessa went still.
“This is a family matter,” Eleanor said quickly. “Olivia is my daughter. Vanessa’s sister. She just lent us some money.”
Lieutenant Kareem’s gaze remained cold as he turned a page.
“According to her report, you stole her account information and withdrew funds without permission,” he said. “This constitutes theft.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Eleanor stammered.
Lieutenant Kareem gestured to the officers.
“We will inspect your luggage.”
The officers opened their bags and began removing contents.
Luxury items. Cash. Receipts.
Then one officer pulled out a folded note from Vanessa’s bag.
Lieutenant Kareem took it, unfolded it carefully.
Olivia’s bank information was written there—account numbers, routing details, notes Vanessa must have copied from Olivia’s computer.
Lieutenant Kareem held it up.
“What is this?”
Vanessa’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
Eleanor’s mouth opened, searching for an explanation, but the words failed.
The atmosphere in the room thickened, heavy as concrete.
“In the UAE,” Lieutenant Kareem said, voice stern, “financial crimes are among the most serious offenses. Theft, especially by foreigners, is severely punished. You will be detained and subject to further investigation.”
“This is a misunderstanding!” Eleanor raised her voice, desperation cracking through. “Let me call Olivia. She’ll explain!”
Lieutenant Kareem didn’t blink.
“She has reported you as thieves,” he said. “We have already been in contact with her. She is scheduled to arrive in Dubai shortly and plans to formally press charges.”
“No,” Eleanor whispered.
Vanessa began to cry.
Lieutenant Kareem continued, calm as a judge.
“Under the laws of the United Arab Emirates, financial crimes can result in a minimum ten-year prison sentence. Since this crime was premeditated and international, a harsher sentence is possible.”
“Ten years,” Vanessa repeated, voice trembling, as if saying it would make it unreal.
The officers handcuffed them.
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