Dad led me through the dark garden to the old workshop behind the laundry shed, the one Julian had told everyone was condemned. The iron key turned in a padlock I had never noticed, and the door groaned open. Inside, under a canvas sheet, stood a tall cedar cabinet Dad had carved before I was born. “Your grandfather’s last gift,” he whispered. “Your mother and I swore nobody would touch it.” Behind us, a floorboard creaked.

A flashlight beam swept across the wall. Julian stood in the doorway with Daniela beside him, and two men from the living room behind them. “So that is where you hid it,” Julian said softly. Daniela stepped forward holding a folded paper. “Give us the cabinet tonight, Ernesto, or I show your son what you signed in March.” Dad’s hand began to shake in mine.