My chest went cold. I sat on the floor and cried, not just over the money, but over the betrayal. I didn’t call the police. Something in me couldn’t. Maybe I wanted to believe I was wrong. Maybe I needed to believe kindness hadn’t cost me everything.
One afternoon, while cleaning out an old kitchen drawer filled with mismatched utensils and forgotten junk, I froze. There it was—the envelope. Thicker than before.
Inside was all my money. And more.
There was a folded note, written carefully, like every word mattered:
“You were the only one who cared. Please accept this as thanks. I hope it helps you get your car sooner. My child and I will be safe now. Forever grateful, Lynn.”
I laughed and cried at the same time. I must have moved the envelope myself and forgotten in the chaos. Lynn hadn’t stolen from me—she’d added to it.
I still don’t know where she is. But I know this: trusting my gut, and her, was the right thing.
And somewhere out there, a woman and her child are safe—because someone chose not to look away.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
