When my father died, I thought the worst was over—until the will was read. Everything—house, assets, accounts—was left to my estranged mother and her son. I, who cared for him through his illness, was left with nothing.

Numb and betrayed, I checked into a motel. Days later, a stranger handed me a map… and vanished. My father’s handwriting read:
“What’s meant for you may not be in the will. Trust only the one who was with me on my last day.”

It led to our old lake cabin. But someone had beaten me there—my mother and half-brother, tearing through his things. In a crate: a shovel, gloves, and another clue. They stormed off, calling it worthless.

But I remembered the other X—by the creek where Dad and I once planted a sapling.

There, I dug until metal struck. Inside: a flash drive and a sealed envelope.

“Mia, this is the real will. You stood by me. Finish what I started. I love you.”

The tears came fast. He hadn’t abandoned me. He believed in me.

Now, it’s my turn to fight—for truth, for justice, and for him.