Edward opened a leather folder and set a single page on the hood of my dead car. My grandfather’s handwriting filled the top, shaky but deliberate. The condition was simple and impossible at once. To inherit everything, I had to run his company for one full year without selling a single piece of it, and without accepting one dollar from my father or his wife.

I almost laughed again, the way I had at that kitchen table. Then Edward said the part that stopped my breath. My grandfather had known exactly what my father did to me. He had been watching for years, kept away by a feud I never understood. His letter ended with one line that cracked something open in my chest. “I am sorry I waited too long. Do not let them win, Marcus.” I gripped the page and finally understood what I was holding.