For the past three months, every night I have been smelling a strange smell. It’s not a typical body odor. It was like the smell of mold mixed with a strong, pungent smell clinging to the blankets, to the bedsheet, and especially to the part of the bed where Miguel was sleeping

At the door, suitcase in hand, he kissed my forehead. “Lock up, okay?”

I nodded, but something in my chest felt heavy.

When the door closed and the house fell silent, I stood there for a long time… staring.

Then I turned toward the bed.

My heart started racing.

“Something’s wrong… I need to know.”

I dragged the mattress to the center of the room.

My hands trembled as I held the cutter.

I took a breath… and sliced it open.

The smell hit me instantly—strong, suffocating. I coughed, covering my nose, my heart pounding.

I cut deeper.

The foam pulled apart.

And then I saw it.

Not spoiled food. Not a dead animal.

A large plastic bag, tightly sealed, already showing signs of mold.

My hands shook as I opened it.

A wave of damp, stale air rushed out.

Inside—

Money.

Bundles and bundles of cash, wrapped in rubber bands. Some were already damp, stained with mold.

I stared, unable to process it.

“Why… why is this here?” I whispered.

Then I found envelopes. Documents. Receipts. Contracts. A small notebook.

When I opened it, my body went rigid.

Dates. Amounts. Company names.

It looked like records of hidden transactions.

My heart pounded harder.

“What is he involved in?”

But then… something caught my attention.