Inside was a brass cylinder no longer than Casey’s palm.

Walter’s hands trembled as he lifted it out.

“Fifty-nine years.”

He unscrewed the cap.

Inside were papers wrapped in oilcloth.

A stock certificate.

A partnership agreement.

Pages from financial ledgers.

And an envelope.

Walter unfolded the first document.

His face changed.

Casey read over his shoulder.

MARLOWE & DOYLE MOTOR WORKS.

Not Doyle Custom Cycles.

Marlowe & Doyle.

Below that were two signatures.

Walter Doyle.

Frank Marlowe.

Ownership division:

Frank Marlowe — 51%.

Walter Doyle — 49%.

Casey stared.

“That can’t be real.”

Walter sat down.

“Oh, it’s real.”

“You owned less than Grandpa?”

Walter laughed.

Then, unexpectedly, began to cry.

“Frank put up the first money.”

He wiped his face.

“Eight hundred and sixty dollars. Everything he had.”

Casey looked at the papers.

“But the company…”

“Henry rewrote the incorporation documents when investors came in.”

Walter was staring at another page.

“He transferred Frank’s shares.”

“To who?”

Walter’s eyes lifted.

“Garrison Holdings.”

A sound came from behind them.

Slow applause.

Casey turned.

Marcus Garrison stood in the doorway.

Brody was beside him.

Four men stood behind them.

Walter rose.

Marcus looked at the papers.

“My grandfather spent thirty years making sure those never appeared.”

Casey felt something inside her break.

“Marcus.”

His expression softened.

And somehow that made it worse.

“I was hoping you’d never find them.”

“You knew.”

“I suspected.”

“You hired me.”

“Yes.”

The word struck harder than any punch.

Eight years.

Casey whispered, “Why?”

“Your surname.”

Marcus stepped into the workshop.

“When your application landed on my desk, I thought coincidence. Then I called Eleanor’s old address. Same woman. Same family.”

“You kept me close.”

“I protected you.”

“You watched me.”

“Yes.”

“Brody attacked Walter.”

Marcus glanced at his nephew.

“That was never supposed to become violent.”

Brody snorted.

Walter’s voice turned cold.

“You sent six men to steal the bike.”

Marcus looked at him.

“To recover property that could destroy my family.”

“Property your family stole.”

“My grandfather is dead.”

“So is Frank.”

Casey held the papers tighter.

Marcus looked at her.

“Casey, listen to me. Those documents don’t make you rich tomorrow. They make you the center of a lawsuit that will last ten years.”

“Then why are you scared?”

Marcus’s face hardened.

“Give me the cylinder.”

“No.”

“I can make Eleanor’s hospital problem disappear.”

Casey froze.

Marcus saw it.

“Four thousand two hundred seventeen dollars.”

Walter looked at her.

Casey’s stomach turned.

“How do you know the amount?”

Marcus said nothing.

Casey finally understood.

“You opened my mail.”

“Not personally.”

“You knew.”

“I know everything that matters around my employees.”

“You watched my grandmother drowning in bills.”