I noticed the faint pencil mark in the margin: check authority.

It was my handwriting from the night I found it.

I had been afraid then.

I was still afraid.

But there was a difference.

Eight months ago I had been secretly building a case while wondering if my husband would believe me.

Now I was building a life that did not require him to.

I tucked Dad’s letter into a separate envelope so it wouldn’t be handled with the contested financial records.