The certificate on the wall.

I told everyone I was a fully qualified accountant in the UK. Said it casually. Put the letters after my name. Even framed the diploma and pinned it to the wall behind my desk where clients could see it. The truth was, I'd failed the final stage and never went back. The certificate was forged, bought from a man who specialised in replicas. At first it was just to get through one interview. Then it became my entire working life. Promotions, trust, access to money, responsibility all built on a single lie in a cheap wooden frame. Every audit season I wait for the knock. Every new client feels like borrowed time. The wall still holds my secret up like it's legitimate.