Back at my apartment, the envelope lay on the kitchen table, still sealed. I hesitated before picking it up again, a part of me reluctant to confront the reality it contained. But I knew I had to face it eventually. I carefully tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. It was a detailed statement of transactions, each line meticulously noted with dates, amounts, and locations. Some of the entries were familiar, but others were completely foreign. My heart sank as I realized the extent of the issue. “This can’t be right,” I whispered to myself, feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness. I needed to gather more information, but the letter offered little in terms of explanation. I decided to go through my past records, hoping to find something that could explain the discrepancies. As I pulled out my laptop and logged into my account, I felt a flicker of determination. I wasn’t going to let this situation unravel my life without a fight.
