Dad’s Rоlех was the only thing he left me. Mom and her new husband sold it for my stepbrother’s «startup.» The pawn shop owner called: «Ma’am, you need to see what was hidden inside this watch…»

There it was, the truth she’d been dancing around since marrying Richard. I had a steady job, a boring life, no grand ambitions, therefore, I deserved less. Tyler had dreams, therefore he deserved everything, including things that weren’t his.

I want the money back, I said quietly. Every penny of the eight thousand five hundred dollars. Richard laughed.

We don’t have it. It’s already invested in techno solutions. Then liquidate it.

You can’t just. Watch me, I picked up the Rolex. This was reported stolen this morning.

I have the police report number. Either I get the money back or I press charges. You wouldn’t? Mom gasped.

Tyler could go to jail. Tyler committed a felony. That’s not my fault.

After everything we’ve done for you, mom’s voice went shrill. We let you live here. I pay rent above market rate, actually.

We’re your family. Dad was my family. This watch was his legacy to me.

And you let your husband and his son steal it like it meant nothing. I left them sputtering and went to the garage. Dad’s toolbox sat under his old workbench, covered in dust, but otherwise untouched.

The Stanley level was in its usual spot. I’d helped him use it a hundred times, checking if cabinets were straight, teaching me that close enough wasn’t good enough when you were building something to last inside the levels. Bubble chamber wrapped in plastic was a small key.

First National Bank was downtown. A building dad had helped renovate back in the 90s. The safe deposit box required two keys, mine and the bank’s.

The manager, an older woman who remembered my father, didn’t ask questions. Box 447 was larger than I’d expected. Inside were three things, a manila envelope, a leather journal, and another letter.

I read the letter first. Mia, if you’re reading this, then you found my little insurance policy. Your mother doesn’t know about this box.

Started it when you were born because I knew even then you were going to be special. The envelope has bonds. Bearer bonds from my father, worth about $100,000 now.

Maybe more. The journal has all the details of the contracting business, client lists, contacts, outstanding invoices that were never collected. There’s probably another $50,000 there if you want to pursue it.

But here’s what I really want you to know. I didn’t leave you just to watch. I left you time.

Time to choose your own path without worrying about money. Time to leave if you need to. Time to be yourself without apology.

Your mother’s a good woman, but she sees the world in terms of who deserves what based on who makes the most noise. You were always quiet, like me. That doesn’t make you less deserving.

It makes you observant, smart, careful. Use this wisely. And remember, the watch isn’t just jewelry.

It’s a reminder that time is the only real currency we have. Don’t let anyone steal yours. All my love, dad…