Thinking he had hurt himself on a broken spring, I rushed over. But when reaching the couch, I felt something hard and unyielding beneath the fabric. My heart pounded in my chest as I fetched a pair of scissors and carefully cut open the upholstery.
We found several large bundles wrapped in old cloth inside. My hands trembled as I unwrapped the first bundle, revealing stacks of cash. There were hundreds of thousands of dollars, neatly packed and hidden away. Alongside the money were several small, ornate boxes filled with jewelry—diamonds, emeralds, and gold pieces that glittered even in the dim light of our small apartment.
I turned pale, realizing the magnitude of what we had stumbled upon. It wasn’t just money and jewelry; it was a lifeline, a way out of the crushing financial despair that had loomed over us for so long. But mixed with the relief was a sense of confusion and betrayal. Why had Gertrude hidden this fortune in such a bizarre manner? Why had she never mentioned it or offered it when we needed it most?
While I was sìting through the treasures, a letter fell out from one of the cloth bundles. It was addressed to me in Gertrude’s familiar, elegant handwriting.
