Days later, she found the envelope again in the trash, folded carefully, not shredded. The hotel name stayed with her. She searched it online, feeling ridiculous. It was in the business district. She closed the browser, annoyed at herself for connecting dots that didn’t belong together.
Now, with the letter in her hand, the memory sharpened cruelly. The hotel, the transaction, the secrecy, and the sale. She replayed his casual dismissal, the practiced laugh. It no longer felt harmless. It felt rehearsed. Evidence assembled itself without effort, convincing her she had ignored warning signs because trust had made doubt feel disloyal.