My son is 23. I raised him on my own—his father passed away when he was just 8, and I never remarried.
Last week, he was busy and asked me to pick up his mail and tidy up the apartment a bit before his guests arrived

He’d mentioned once that there might be expired food he’d forgotten to toss. I opened it—and there was a plastic container labeled, “DO NOT TOUCH.”
At first, I thought it was a joke. But when I opened it—I turned pale with horror. Because what I saw wasn’t food, but a bundle of what looked like small plastic bags filled with cash, and something that looked disturbingly like… white powder.

I dropped the container.
It hit the floor with a thud, and one of the bags came loose. My hands shook. I stared at the powder, trying to convince myself it was flour or sugar.
But deep down, I knew it wasn’t.