My phone buzzed on the table, and I saw a text from Skylar. “How’s the shack treating you, Riley? Does it still smell like old mold?”

I stared at the screen and almost laughed. If she had even the slightest clue what was under my boots, she’d be driving here right now.

I spent the rest of the night going through the metal box. There were land deeds, bank statements, and my father’s personal notes about the property.

The deeper I dug, the clearer the picture became. This wasn’t just a piece of property. It was power and leverage.

By midnight, I finally ate the stew Hank had brought over. It was excellent—the kind of meal only a veteran knows how to make.

I sat at the table and stared at the documents, thinking about what Skylar would do if she knew. She’d call me unworthy and try to take it from me immediately.