Jessica snatched the can from her son’s hands, and in one second the color drained from her face. Beneath a layer of folded dollar bills sat two small blue bank books, one for each twin, along with a card in my handwriting. She opened the first, read the number twice, and her knees buckled so badly she grabbed the counter. “Eighteen thousand dollars,” Ethan whispered. “Each.” Greg stepped closer, and the whole kitchen went silent.

Then Ethan lifted the can with his own name from my arms and peeled off the rubber band. Taped inside the lid was an envelope, and on it, in my shaky writing, were five words: “For Jessica. Read this last.” She backed away, shaking her head. “Don’t,” she breathed. Ethan pressed the envelope into her hand. “Read it out loud, Mom,” he said quietly.