The counting took hours. Hundreds, fifties, and twenties were spread across the floor like a paper carpet. When the final tally was made, the number was staggering: $41,000. For three students living on ramen and hope, it was a miracle. They sat in silence, staring at the pile of cash that could pay off their loans and change their futures instantly.
“Wait,” Cally said, reaching for a torn scrap of paper that had fallen out of the very last envelope. It wasn’t money. It was a bank deposit slip, dated years ago. On the slip was a name. A woman’s name.
The room went cold. This wasn’t “found” money from a faceless corporation. This belonged to a person. Someone who lived right there in the area, someone who had likely tucked their life savings into a sofa for safekeeping and then… forgotten it.
The excitement of the find began to melt into a heavy, moral weight. Who was this woman, and did she even know her fortune was gone?
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