“My dear grandsons,” Grandma said softly, her voice fragile as she lay in bed.

“Your grandfather built this house for me when we were just starting out.

I’ve lived here my whole life, and you’ve made so many wonderful memories here too. All I ask is that you rebuild it in his memory.”

Walter and I both nodded, but I knew in my gut I was the only one who truly meant it.

Later, at the lawyer’s office, it became painfully obvious.

“We have to honor Grandma’s wish,” I told Walter, still holding onto some hope.

“For what?” he scoffed. “She’s not going to know if we don’t waste money rebuilding that old house.

Do whatever you want—I’m out.” And with that, he jumped in his car and drove off without a second thought.

I couldn’t let her down. That house was her heart and soul, and I was determined to keep her memory alive.

I poured every last cent of my savings into the project, and when that wasn’t enough, I borrowed money from a friend.

It wasn’t easy, but I knew it was the right thing to do.

One afternoon, as I was working in the front yard, fixing the old sewage system, my shovel hit something hard.

At first, I thought it was just a rock, but as I cleared away the dirt, I uncovered a wooden hatch.

“What the hell is this?” I muttered, brushing off the soil. My heart raced as I pried it open and peered inside.

I had no idea that what I was about to find would change everything.

Inside the hidden hatch, there was a short wooden ladder leading down into a cramped underground space.

It felt cold, and the musky smell of damp soil filled my nose. The cellar wasn’t very large, but it had enough room

for a small table, a couple of dusty chairs, and a single lightbulb hanging from a wire in the ceiling.

My guess was that it had been abandoned for years. If Grandma or Grandpa ever mentioned it, I must’ve been too young to remember.

I carefully climbed down the ladder, my heart pounding in my chest. At first, nothing stood

out except for cobwebs and a few old crates in the corner. But then I noticed a box lying near

the small wooden table. It was locked, but the old brass padlock seemed so fragile that I figured a decent tug might pop it open. I was right.