After four years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit, I finally came home. But my key didn’t work. The woman who opened the door was a frail, terrified stranger. It turned out my fiancée had sold my house to her scumbag son, who then used it to dump his own mother after stealing her fortune. We were two abandoned souls, and we became a family. Then, on her deathbed, she gave me one final, mysterious mission…

On the bedside table, next to the small key for the box, was a letter. My hands trembled as I read her neat, elegant script.

My dear Anton, it began. My precious grandson. Thank you for illuminating my last days. You showed me the family warmth I had forgotten. I hope, in return, I showed you what it means to be loved. I leave you my modest inheritance. Please, smile more often. With love, your Grandma Agnes.

I couldn’t hold back the tears then. Dr. Howell put a hand on my shoulder as I used the key to open the box. It wasn’t full of trinkets. It was packed to the brim with gold, diamonds, and precious stones—a lifetime of wealth from a woman who knew her own son couldn’t be trusted with it.

That was a year ago. I arranged a beautiful funeral for Agnes. Alex tried to sue me for the inheritance, but a single call from Dr. Howell’s lawyer shut him down for good.