I Found a Suitcase Full of Money in Our Attic – That Day, My Husband Did Not Return Home

When Lily discovers that she and Graham are finally having a baby —she begins to renovate the house, eager to create a nursery. But then, a trip to the attic and a suitcase full of money leave her wondering what her husband is up to...

Our home felt too small as I paced through the living room, clutching the pregnancy test in my hand. This was it. After years of trying, I finally felt as though this was the right moment.

Graham walked in, the door creaking softly behind him. He set his briefcase down next to the stairs and walked in, a grin on his face.

"Thank goodness it's the weekend," he said.

"Graham, we're going to have a baby!" I gasped. It was the first time I said it out loud since seeing the positive indication.

My husband froze, a myriad of expressions crossing his face before settling into a wide, awe-struck smile.

"Lily, are you serious?" he gushed, rushing over to me.

He pulled me into a tight embrace, laughter and tears mingling between us.

Finally, our dream of becoming parents was finally becoming a reality.

The weeks turned into months and my belly began to grow with our hopes. As time went on, we finally realized that in a few months, we'd get to meet our baby — their cries echoing through our home.

"Should we move?" I asked Graham as he smashed avocados for breakfast. "We need a nursery."

"No," he laughed. "We can use the attic for my office, and turn the office into a nursery."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

As much as our home was ours, and had been for years — the attic hadn't really been touched by us. The previous owners had left old furniture and boxes packed with old books and frames.

Since we moved in, Graham and I had only looked around a handful of times, not bothered by sorting through the things.

"Yes, I barely use the office in any case," he said. "It's not that important. The nursery is."

I nodded.

Graham was right; he hardly ever set foot in his office — usually when he got home from work, that was it. He didn't want to look at another screen if he could help it.

"You can start planning the nursery," he said. "Get your mood board going, and I'll get everything you need."

But then, the next day, Graham got home in a mood. Something had shifted his mood, and he refused to tell me what had happened.

"Let it go, Lily," he said. "I'm just tired."

So, I did. I was dealing with swollen ankles and nausea. I didn't want to coax something out of Graham. If he wanted to talk about it, he knew exactly where to find me.

With Graham at work, I climbed into the attic the next day, dust particles dancing in the slivers of light. I wanted to take a look at the space and make sure that there was enough space for all of Graham's things.

I also knew that we needed to refresh the paint on the walls and maybe the flooring.

It was there, among the shadows and silence, that I stumbled upon an old, forgotten suitcase.

My heart raced as I dragged it into the light, the metal clasps cold under my fingertips. For the life of me, I couldn't remember seeing the suitcase before.

Inside, there were stacks of fresh, unmarked bills. There was an entire fortune hidden away in our home.

"Where did this come from?" I asked the silence.

Panic and curiosity clashed within me. I couldn't understand why we had such a large amount of money just sitting around.

But was it ours? I assumed that it wasn't. Graham would have told me that there was money lying around the house.

If he knew, I thought. Or if he wanted to tell you.

I immediately wanted to call my husband and get to the bottom of the suitcase, but I knew he would be home soon.

"Patience, Lily," I said to the room. "You can wait until he walks through the door."

Begrudgingly, I went back downstairs to the kitchen, ready to begin dinner. If anything, I just needed to keep my mind busy. There were hundreds of thousands just sitting above my head.

The hours ticked by, and I found myself doing random things — time stretched on and on, and still, Graham didn't come home. I tried calling him several times while the clock edged closer to midnight.

That night, I went to bed with my baby's kicks as the only companion I had. I was worried and irritated because it wasn't like Graham not to let me know when he was late.

Days turned into agonizing silence, and I had even filed a police report because I knew that something was wrong.

And still, Graham didn't answer his phone.

"What if something happened to you, or the baby?" I asked myself in the mirror. "He wouldn't know anything about it."

Then, there was a knock at the door, jolting me from my state of worry. A man stood at the door, a large black hat in his hands, his eyes holding stories untold.

"Are you Lily? Graham's wife?" he asked, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of urgency.

He kept glancing over his shoulder, forcing me to invite him in.

"Yes, I am. Who are you?" I replied, wary of the stranger standing in my home. "How do you know my husband?"

"My name is Ajax. Graham and I go way back, before he met you. There's something you need to know about him, and about why he's not here."

As Ajax unfolded the tale of Graham's past, of a crime witnessed and a life upended, apparently, Graham had witnessed a crime by very influential people and the money was given to him as a means of keeping quiet.

"The money was for protection, wasn't it?" I asked, the words heavy in my chest.

Ajax nodded solemnly.

"Graham wanted to make sure that you and the baby would be safe. That's why I'm here, to make sure that you are. Under his request. He'll be in touch soon. Keep the money."

I made Ajax a toasted sandwich while he told me more about Graham's past.

"It was a robbery," he said. "But it was all planned, the family wanted the insurance money from the belongings. Which were pieces of priceless jewelry. It was just a very messy situation."

"How did Graham get involved?" I asked.

"He was walking up the sidewalk to his house — and the family spotted him. But they didn't think anything of it. Until they were reported to the police. They assumed that Graham had reported them."

Almost two weeks later, my husband finally returned. His eyes popped out when he saw my growing belly, the baby having had a mind of her own as she grew.

"I had to face it, Lily. I had to go to the family and clear my name. I couldn't live knowing that there was still a hit over my head. Especially not with you and the baby around."

"No more secrets, Graham," I said seriously. "We need to be united."

Graham agreed and spent hours talking about his past. It was cathartic for him.

We spent the next few weeks focusing on our baby's nursery, each brush stroke and piece of furniture solidifying a new chapter of our lives.

Before our baby was born, Graham decided to take the money and put it away.

"In a bank this time," he said. "At least the baby's college fund will be sorted out."

I had to admit, I needed the suitcase out of the house. The longer it was there, the more worried I was. It was just the fact that there was money lying there.

So, when Graham took it to the bank — bringing a lot of questions and paperwork, I felt better knowing that everything was legal.

Or so I hoped.

When Olive was born, Graham cradled her in his arms and looked at me with eyes bright with unshed tears.

"We did it, Lily. We made it through the storm."

I truly hoped that we did. It felt like a new start — I just hoped never to see Ajax again.

What would you have done in my shoes?

Here's another story for you | Margaret is still grieving and learning to cope with her husband's death after 50 years of marriage, then she makes a discovery that forces her to rethink her entire life.