Chapter 1

On the seventh day memorial for Grandpa, the lawyer read the will in front of thirty relatives. The password to the safe was the birthday of the person Grandpa cherished most. All the uncles from the three branches of the family tried one after another, but every attempt failed. Then someone suggested the forgotten orphan girl from the fourth branch—me. When the safe finally opened, I realized what kind of hand Grandpa had been building for me over the past ten years.

*****

On Grandpa's seven-day memorial, the lawyer stood before all thirty family members and announced that the password to the safe was the birthday of the one Grandpa loved most.

I was tucked away in the corner of the living room, absentmindedly counting nails on the wall, when I caught those words.

The memorial for Hartwell Building Supplies' founder, Edwin Hartwell, had already been cleared out. His portrait now sat on the sideboard, its frame gleaming from a fresh polish.

Three neat rows of cups lined the marble coffee table, steam curling up from the hot water Uncle Thomas had just poured.

The old clock on the TV stand ticked away, its hands frozen at 2:30 in the afternoon.

Lawyer Geoff Morrell stood next to the sofa, holding a folder, with a waist-high black safe beside him. He wore a dark gray suit, a crisp white shirt, and silver cufflinks that glinted in the light.

"According to the supplementary clause in Mr. Hartwell's will," Lawyer Morrell said in a steady voice, "the safe is to be handled separately. The password is a six-digit birthday, formatted as YYMMDD."

My eldest uncle, George Hartwell, was the first to set down his cup. "Hey, Lawyer Morrell, did my father leave any hints?"

"The one he loved most," Lawyer Morrell replied, pushing up his glasses.

The whole living room went abuzz.

Margaret, wife of Uncle Robert, shot up from her seat. "It's got to be William! Edwin adored him more than anyone. He was his pride and joy!"

My eldest cousin William was sitting at the head of the table, twenty-eight years old and just promoted to VP last year.

With everyone urging him on, he walked over to the safe, tapped in six digits, and—beep. Red light.

Margaret's expression shifted, but she quickly turned to Uncle George. "Then it must be you, George! You're the eldest son. Edwin relied on you more than anyone."

Uncle George didn't waste any time. He walked over, entered the code, but the red light blinked again.

Things were starting to feel off.

"Try Thomas's birthday," someone said.

Uncle Thomas's birthday—red light.

"Try James's birthday," someone from the second branch called out.

James, their eldest—red light.

For the next half hour, everyone lined up to take their shot. Sons, grandsons, and sons-in-law from the first, second, and third branches all tried. Even the great-grandson, still in high school, got dragged over to give it a go.

Every single one got a red light.

The safe's keypad was smudged with fingerprints.

Margaret shrilled, "Lawyer Morrell, are you sure the password's correct?"

"Mr. Hartwell wrote the password rules himself," Lawyer Morrell replied, completely unfazed.

Uncle George's face darkened, and Margaret, by the sofa, rolled her eyes, probably mentally ticking off who hadn't tried yet. Suddenly, Uncle George turned his gaze on me. His stare could slice me in half.

The living room fell silent.

Someone let out a loud cough, breaking the tension.

I shuffled back half a step without even thinking.

"Clara?" Uncle George's tone was strange. "Come on, give it a try."

I shook my head. "I'd rather not."

Margaret totally lost it.

"Why are you even here? Your dad's been gone for ten years, and your mom remarried. What's your connection to this family now?" Her voice was so loud it could be heard all the way down the hall. "Isn't this family messy enough for you? You skip every family gathering all year, but now that there's money to split, you show up out of nowhere?"

I just stood there, not moving an inch.

"What are you trying to prove?" Margaret took a couple of steps closer, jabbing her finger at me. "You think going to some second-rate college makes you special? You only made it through college because Grandpa footed the bill, so what's there to be proud of? Law school, big deal. You're just a rookie lawyer now. James makes more delivering takeout in a month than you do as a lawyer."

Someone stifled a laugh.

Margaret ranted nonstop, finishing with, "Grandpa hated people like you, ungrateful and shameless."

I waited until she was done, her voice hoarse and her breathing heavy.

Then I spoke, "For sixteen years, every Saturday from two to five, I was at Grandpa's place on Elderberry Lane. Not once did I miss a single visit."

Margaret choked, caught off guard.

"Did any of you ever bother to visit him?" I glanced at my cousins. "Except when you were asking for cash?"

The air in the living room seemed to vanish.

William cleared his throat. "That was all when we were kids."

"On the twenty-third of last month, you went to Grandpa's place and asked him for 65 thousand dollars," I said, staring right at him. "Said it was for a company car."

William's face flushed bright red.