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Martha has always loved plants. Her small room in her old family home, which smelled of flowers and old books, resembled a small greenhouse. She began each morning by checking on her green and flowering treasures. But the girl's heart belonged to a small bonsai tree, a delicate tree she had received for her birthday.
Her father had brought the bonsai from Japan, saying it was a “tree of dreams.” Martha laughed when she heard this, but still sat by it every evening and shared her secret desires.
After her father's death, everything changed. Her stepmother, a cold and domineering woman, filled every corner of the house with her sharp, smoky voice and heavy gaze. She convinced Martha to sign some documents, assuring her that they were “formalities.” Martha did not read the fine print because she trusted her...
When the girl came to her senses, it was too late: she was left without a home, without a penny, and without an inheritance. All she had left was a suitcase with a few dresses, an old diary, and that same bonsai tree. Her stepmother kicked her out.
That evening, as Martha sat alone in a cheap hostel, she felt broken. She looked at the bonsai and remembered her father's words: “This tree is your guardian. Take care of it.” Suddenly, her gaze fell on a strange crack in the ceramic pot. Martha carefully began to chip away at the pieces of soil and old clay.
Under a layer of soil, between the roots, she found a small stainless steel capsule. Her hands trembled as she opened it: inside was a flash drive wrapped in silver paper. On a tiny piece of paper was written: “The real treasure is where you don't look for it. That's how I found your mother. You are so much like her. I love you...”
She found an internet café, turned on an old laptop, and plugged in the flash drive. Long rows of numbers and letters appeared on the screen — access to a crypto wallet. Her eyes widened when she saw the balance — over a million dollars in USDT.
At that moment, her whole life flashed before her eyes: her stepmother, lost dreams, cold nights in an empty hostel room... And suddenly — hope.
The night over the city was filled with summer warmth and the scent of fragrant linden trees. For the first time in a long time, Marta felt alive. She imagined herself sitting in a small café on the Mediterranean coast.
She smiled, feeling the light touch of fate on her shoulder. Perhaps real treasures are not hidden in ancient chests, but where love and faith live.
The rays of the evening sun flooded the empty café with soft golden light... Marta knew that her story was just beginning.
