The teller swallowed hard. “Where did you get all this?”
The boy didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he reached into his hoodie pocket. The security guard tensed instantly, hand hovering near his belt.
But all the boy pulled out was a folded piece of paper.
He placed it gently on top of the money.
“My mom told me…” he said softly, “…to bring it here if something happened to her.”
The air dropped cold.
The teller’s hands shook as she unfolded the note.
And then she saw the handwriting.
Her face drained of color instantly.
She knew it.
“No…” she whispered. “No… that can’t be…”
Her eyes flicked back to the boy.
“Your mother… she’s alive?”
The boy tilted his head slightly, confused—like he didn’t understand why that question mattered.
And then, quietly, he spoke again.
But before his next words could finish the sentence—
The security alarm suddenly BLARED through the bank.
