I was about to find out.

And so were they.

The two months I had spent carrying that envelope, waiting, are the part of this story I am proudest of, and also the part hardest to explain to people who have never had to be patient with a truth that was burning a hole in them.

Because the instinct, when you discover a betrayal like that, is to act immediately, to confront, to blow it all up while the wound is fresh and the rage is hot.

Everyone understands that instinct; it feels like justice, like self-respect, like refusing to be a victim one more day.