“Oh, Marla, honey,” she said sweetly. “That rusty thing is going to ruin your carpet. You should throw it away.” Then, casually, she added, “I’ll even give you $5,000 if you promise to get rid of it.”

Her offer hit me like a thunderbolt. Why would she pay that much for something she called worthless? Alarm bells rang in my head. I smiled politely but refused. Her cheerful expression cracked for just a moment, revealing something darker. “Suit yourself,” she said quickly. “It’s not like you even have the key.”

That’s when I knew she was hiding something.

That night, I stared at the box for hours, running my fingers over the lock. I didn’t have the key — or at least, I didn’t think I did. But I was sure April did. I could still picture the old jewelry box she kept on her dresser, where she stashed everything important.

So I came up with a plan.

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