ADVERTISEMENT
But it didn’t stop there. As I was signing the paperwork, Margaret’s phone buzzed with a message and a photo from Elena. It was a picture of the prescription, but next to it was the fifty-pound note I had given her. Elena had noticed something strange—there was a very specific marking on it, a small blue ink stain in the corner from a pen that had leaked in my pocket earlier that morning during my frantic preparation. She realized I hadn’t “found” her money at all; I had given her mine.
