The day my biyenan (ex-father-in-law) called me, I was a little surprised — my ex-wife and I had not been in touch for nearly ten years. Mara Dela Cruz left me when I went bankrupt, for a rich man in Makati. But that day, Don Ramon Dela Cruz’s voice was weak over the phone, telling me to come right away.

In the white hospital room of a private hospital in Quezon City, he handed me a black plastic bag, inside was 500 million in cash. He gently held my hand:
“Son… keep this money a secret, don’t let anyone know. This is a family matter. After I die, you will know what to do.”

I nodded, not asking any more questions.

On the day he died, the entire Dela Cruz family gathered to take care of the lamay (funeral) at the funeral home on Araneta Avenue. Mara also came back, but she acted like an outsider, standing next to her new husband, Victor Ong, giving instructions incessantly. I said nothing, silently following my ex-father-in-law’s last wish.

On the last day, when the funeral was over, I quietly opened my wallet to check before doing as he wished… and was stunned: the thick stacks of money were all votive paper money, interspersed with a few real bills to create weight. At the bottom of the bag was a white envelope. Inside was a scribbled letter:

“Son-in-law, I know that my daughter abandoned you in the past, but you never blamed me. I also know that you secretly helped me pay off a large debt without telling anyone. The real money is in the drawer under the kitchen, the key is in the pocket of the barong Tagalog shirt I’m wearing today. Take it before they find out.”

My heart was pounding. I crept to the back kitchen, opened the old wooden aparador. Just as he said, a small iron box lay quietly inside. I opened it — the stacks of new, genuine money, still sealed, neatly arranged.

I calmly put it in my backpack and returned to the living room as if nothing had happened. Mara walked over, her voice mocking:

“Adrian, you’re still dirt poor, I don’t know why Papa called you here…”

I just smiled and walked out the door. Before I crossed the threshold, I turned back and said something that made the whole family freeze:

“Papa called me… to return all the money he’s hidden away all his life. As for you guys, just stay there and fight over the stacks of votive paper money in the black bag.”

As soon as I finished speaking, all eyes turned to the bag that was still on the table. Mara turned pale, rushed forward and tore it open… and sure enough, it was full of votive paper money. Grunts and shouts echoed throughout the chapel. As for me, I carried my backpack and walked out into the Manila sun — this time, holding my head higher than ever.