My wife, Elise, was at the stove, and our daughter Maya was upstairs arguing with a college application on her laptop.

The ordinary sounds of our home went on around me while I stared at more cash than I had ever held in my life.

“Julian?” Elise called.

“Did you find his photographs?”

I didn’t answer.

I brought the suitcase into the kitchen and set it on the table.

Elise stopped stirring the soup.

Neither of us touched a bill.