The brass hinges creaked as I lifted the lid.

Inside was a handwritten letter on Genevieve’s personal stationery, a faded document with a 1965 date stamp, and a USB drive—sleek and modern. I reached for the letter first.

“My dearest Cecily,” it read.

“If you are reading this, then Jonathan has done his job, and your father has done exactly what I feared he would. I am sorry I could not protect you while I was alive, but I can protect you now. The enclosed document is board approval. The USB contains something else—something your father hoped I had forgotten. In 2018, Harold proposed a resolution to reduce my voting rights from 51 percent to 10 percent. His stated reason was that I was too old to understand modern business. The real reason was that he wanted control, and I was in his way. The board rejected his proposal by two votes. I was one of those votes. I never forgot what he tried to do. And I never forgave him for the way he treated you to justify it—as though diminishing you somehow proved I was unfit. Use this wisely, Cecily. Not for revenge. For justice. All my love, Grandma Genevieve.”

I plugged the USB into my laptop. The file was labeled “Board Meeting Minutes — March 2018.”

It was my father’s attempt to strip his own mother of power. It was documented. It was timestamped. It was hard evidence.