“She used your service code from an old tax filing she found tucked inside your father’s desk.”

I picked up the envelope.

The paper was heavy kraft stock, reinforced with fiber threads, and sealed with official brown tape across the back seam.

“Did she tell you what she planned to do with it?” I asked.

“She said she needed proof,” David said.

“Not for herself.

She already knew you weren’t some ordinary discharge.

She wanted something with an official government seal that Gerald couldn’t dismiss as family gossip.”