The message contained only a single photograph.

It was a picture of my mother’s old safe-deposit box at the local bank, completely empty, with the door hanging open.

Underneath the photo, a text appeared.

*We found it first, Sophia.*

My breath caught in my throat.

The glass slipped from my hand and shattered against the tile floor.

I stared at the sparkling shards of glass on the dark kitchen tile.

Water seeped slowly into the gray grout, reflecting the blue light of my phone screen.

My fingers trembled as I zoomed in on the photograph.

The brass door of safe-deposit box 412 was swung wide open.

Inside was nothing but bare metal and dust.

My heart hammered against my ribs, but then I took a slow, deep breath and let it out.

They thought they had stripped my mother’s legacy bare.

They did not know I had cleared the deeds and bonds out of that box three weeks ago, right after her funeral.

All they had found was an empty metal container and a few expired insurance policies.