The morning sun spilled across Rodrigo’s Restaurant in long, golden stripes, cutting through the smell of freshly baked bread and simmering broth. The place was alive as usual, staff preparing for the afternoon crowd, laughter drifting from the kitchen, knives clattering against cutting boards.
But in the small upstairs office, the world was falling apart.
Miter Rodrigo sat behind his desk, his face pale beneath the fluorescent light. Before him lay an opened envelope stamped URGENT, TAX AUTHORITY NOTICE. The paper trembled in his hands.
“Government Land Use Fine and Unpaid Tax Assessment: $4,523,000.”
The words stared back at him like a curse.
He read it again, hoping he’d somehow misread the number, that an extra zero had found its way in by mistake. But no, the digits were as sharp
