Jenna Roland searched every corner of the bedroom, even crawling under the bed, but only found that suspicious wooden box.

She rubbed her throbbing temples and picked up Victor Roland's dirty clothes from the floor, heading to the bathroom.

The moment the clothes hit the ground, a metallic clink rang out.

Jenna's heart skipped a beat. She frantically pushed aside the fabric. A set of keys lay glinting coldly under the light.

Her breath caught. Her fingers trembled slightly.

This was fate.

She snatched the keys and rushed back to the bedroom. On the fifth try, the lock clicked open.

Inside the box were neatly stacked receipts and bankbooks.

Kneeling on the floor, she flipped through them with ice-cold fingertips. When she unfolded the last document, her blood turned to ice.

Her parents' suicide note.

She stuffed the note into her pocket and noticed a bankbook bearing her father's name.

A fixed deposit of $250,000, inaccessible until August.

Jenna clenched her jaw until it ached, her nails digging into her palms.

So this was why. That bastard Victor wouldn't even spare the dead.

Forcing herself to stay calm, she restored everything. The keys went back on the belt loop. The clothes returned to their pile.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

The front door suddenly creaked open. Jenna slipped into the kitchen, pressing her back against the cold tiles.

Jason Roland's footsteps grew louder.

"Dad, I found the keys," his voice carried through the door. "They were on the pants you wore yesterday."

A spatula slipped from Jenna's grip and clattered loudly against the floor.