When I came home after a year abroad, Mom was happy—but the kitchen faucet barely worked. She brushed it off, but something felt off. Weeks later, I took the pipes apart and found a filthy envelope stuffed with stacks of hundred-dollar bills.
Mom broke down. She said the money wasn’t hers—she’d found it two years ago after the old homeowner, Mr. Garrick, died. Terrified it was dirty money, she hid it back in the pipe and tried to forget.
Then a man named Silas showed up, claiming to be Garrick’s nephew and asking about hidden cash. We panicked. I contacted a lawyer and found out Garrick had no heirs—the money should’ve gone to the state.
We turned it in to the police. Silas turned out to be a fraud, and Mom wasn’t charged. Weeks later, a charity, moved by our story, fixed up the house for free.
We didn’t keep the money—but we gained peace, safety, and a second chance. Sometimes, doing the right thing really does pay off.
