Then an old metal lockbox slipped from my hands and crashed open on the floor.
Inside was an envelope with my name written in Caleb’s handwriting.
My heart stopped.
Inside were legal documents.
A trust summary.
And then something else.
A guardian benefit fund.
Caleb had created a separate account for whoever raised his children if something ever happened to him.
For thirteen years, I had never known it existed.
There was enough money for me to buy a home of my own and live comfortably for years.
Beneath the documents was a note from Caleb.
He wrote that he hoped his sons would grow up understanding that love should be repaid with gratitude.
Before I could fully process it, Mason and Noah came rushing up the attic stairs.
They said the inspector had found a foundation crack.
Repairs would cost forty thousand dollars.
And they expected me to pay.
