The foreclosure house I bought was hidden in five million. I said I called the police, but my brother wanted to sacrifice.
My brother purchased a reasonably priced three–bedroom foreclosure home to serve as his future marital residence.
To our utter disbelief, on the very first day after the ownership transfer when our entire family went to visit the house, the ceiling collapsed, revealing a staggering five million dollars in cash.
We were all dumbstruck. After a moment, I suggested we should report it to the authorities, but my brother and parents wanted to keep the money for themselves.
My brother exclaimed with excitement, “The house is mine, so the money should belong to me too.”
My parents nodded in agreement.
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I shook my head, saying, “You know how foreclosure homes come about. Keeping this money would be illegal.”
“Moreover, we don’t know anything about the previous owner’s background. There could be dangerous implications.”
But my brother refused to listen. His eyes were wide and fixated on the cash pile, as if envisioning a bright future.
“Sis, you’re just scared! This house is mine now, and everything in it should be mine. This money is like a wedding gift from heaven. Why should I give it away?”
He crouched down, frantically gathering the scattered cash into his arms with a sense of urgency and madness, as if fearing it might disappear at any moment.
My parents stood by, watching without intervening, their faces reflecting the same greed as my brother’s.
Dad frowned, full of internal struggle and reluctance, and spoke slowly, “Sweetheart, we’ve considered your point, but the
transform our lives.”
five million could
“Your brother is about to get married. With this money, he can have a splendid wedding, and we won’t have to worry about the future.”
Mom chimed in, her eyes never leaving the money, “Yes, such a sum is rare. We could keep it quietly; who would know?”
I watched this scene unfold with a sense of helplessness and sadness.
I tried to reason with them again, “Think about it. If this money was legitimate, why would the owner hide it in the ceiling?”
“There must be a secret behind this. If we’re discovered, our whole family could be ruined.”
But my words seemed to drift away like the wind, leaving no impact.
By now, my brother had piled the cash into a heap, pressing it down as if protecting his most valuable treasure.
He glared at me, saying, “Sis, stay out of this! I’m keeping this money. If you call the police, don’t blame me for cutting ties.”
My parents remained silent, but their expressions showed they sided with my brother.
I knew convincing them would be an uphill battle.
But I couldn’t just watch them walk into danger.
Back at our current home, I searched online for the consequences of not reporting found money in a foreclosure house.
I decided to call 911, “Hello, I’d like to report that I found…”
Before I could finish, my brother kicked me from behind.
I cried out in pain as my phone flew several meters away.
My brother quickly picked it up and saw the call was still connected.
“Hello? Is there an issue?”
9:59 AN
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9:59 AM
