I kid you not! There were stacks of $100 bills, banded and wrapped! I blinked, counted quickly — there had to be at least $200,000 in there, maybe more! My heart thumped in my chest. Kiran’s eyes widened.
“There’s more,” he said, reaching into the pouch.
He pulled out a velvet box, the kind used for jewelry. I opened it slowly and found a delicate gold bracelet inside. I recognized it immediately. It was mine, or it had been. I’d sold it years ago, during the worst part of our financial mess, when rent was due and I had no other options.
“How… how is this here?” I murmured.
Kiran frowned. “Did you sell this?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to, but I had no choice.”
He looked toward the safe again, his voice quiet. “I think Dad repurchased it. I think he’s been planning this for a long time.”
I sat down on an overturned paint bucket, my legs too weak to keep me standing. The envelope trembled in my hands as I opened it. There was a sheet of paper, a letter.
“Jen,” it began. “If you’re reading this, then something happened to me, and Harold is no longer around. I know how bad things got, and I’m sorry I left you with all of it. That was never the plan.”
My throat tightened as I read. Michael’s words flowed through the page as if he were sitting beside me.
