The email was brief, almost terse, outlining the supposed benefits of the investment. According to David, the bull was a rare breed with great potential returns. Yet there was no mention of the risks, no acknowledgment of the financial strain it could place on us. I skimmed through the attached documents, each more complex than the last. The language was dense, filled with terms that seemed purposefully opaque.

Feeling cornered, I decided to call David. He picked up on the third ring, his voice slightly breathless as if he’d been running. “Hey,” he said, a note of impatience in his voice.

“David, we need to talk about this,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady. “Why the rush? This is a huge decision.” There was a pause, and I could hear him breathing on the other end.

“Look, it’s a great opportunity. I thought you’d trust me on this,” he replied, his tone defensive. I could picture him, pacing the floor, his free hand running through his hair—a telltale sign of his anxiety.

“It’s not that simple,” I countered, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “We’re talking about a significant amount of money here. I just need more time to think it over.”

He sighed, and for a moment, I thought he might relent. But then he said, “I’ve already committed. We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I wanted to argue, to push back, but the line went dead before I could say anything more.

I sat there for a moment, the silence of the house pressing down on me. I needed to clear my head, to find some way of making sense of this mess. But first, I needed to know more about this so-called investment. I turned back to my laptop, searching for information about the breed David had mentioned. What I found was a mix of glowing endorsements and stark warnings, each more confusing than the last.

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