Upstairs, the master bedroom looked equally sterile. One side of the closet held women’s clothes arranged neatly by color.

The other side was completely empty.

No men’s shoes.

No suits.

No watches.

Nothing belonging to Kang Jun.

I stood there staring at the empty closet for several long seconds before moving toward the final room at the end of the hallway.

The door was locked.

My heartbeat quickened immediately.

I don’t know why, but every instinct told me not to open it.

Still, I tried the handle again harder, and to my surprise, the door slowly creaked inward.

The room inside was filled with boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling.

One of them had been left partially open.

I stepped closer carefully and looked inside.

Cash.

Bundles and bundles of American dollars wrapped tightly in plastic.

For a second, I genuinely thought I was hallucinating.

My hands shook as I opened another box.

More cash.

Another box.

Even more.

There had to be millions sitting in that room.

I stumbled backward, unable to process what I was seeing. If Mary Lou was already sending me one hundred thousand dollars every year, where was all this extra money coming from?

And why hide it?

Then I noticed something sticking out beneath one of the bundles.

A passport.

I picked it up carefully and opened it.

Mary Lou’s face stared back at me.

The passport had expired twelve years earlier.

Right around the time she moved to Korea.

My blood ran cold.

Why would she never renew it if she planned to travel home someday?

That was when I heard the sound downstairs.

The front door opening.

I froze instantly.

Slow footsteps entered the house.

Not hurried.

Not surprised.

Almost calm.

The footsteps began climbing the stairs one at a time, each creak making my chest tighten harder.

Then a voice called out softly from the hallway.

“Mrs. Theresa…”

My entire body went numb.

Because I recognized the voice immediately.

And it did not belong to my daughter.