He reached into his wet coat.

“She gave it to me for safekeeping,” he said. “Before she died.”

He pulled out a thick manila envelope sealed with red wax.

“But I need something from you first,” Julian said.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I need the login codes to Brandon’s offshore account,” he said. “The ones your father keeps in his safe.”

My heart sank.

“I don’t have those,” I said.

“Then we have nothing to talk about,” Julian said, turning back toward his car.

“Wait,” Arthur said.

Suddenly, headlights swept across the parking lot, blinding us.

Another car, a large silver SUV, sped around the corner and screeched to a halt behind Julian’s vehicle.

The driver’s door opened, and a familiar figure stepped out into the rain.

It was my father.

My father slammed the SUV door shut.

The heavy sound echoed across the empty asphalt.

He walked toward us, his leather shoes splashing through the puddles.

He didn’t have an umbrella, and his gray hair plastered against his forehead almost instantly.