The roofing estimate on my clipboard was half done when my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I almost let it ring out, but a strange instinct said pick up.

“Hello?”

“Is this Daniel Kerrigan?” The voice was raspy, like gravel dragged across pavement.

“Yeah. Who’s asking?”

“This is Victor. I run Alderwood Pawn off Hanover Street. I think I’ve got something that belongs to you.”

My irritation sharpened. “What exactly?”

“A stainless Omega Seamaster. Black dial. Inscription on the back reads, To Dan, from Dad.”

The world tilted. My hand shot to the bottom drawer of my desk, where the watch had always been wrapped in cloth behind old folders. The drawer was empty.

My chest felt like it was caving in. “Where did you get it?”

“A kid dropped it off yesterday. Said it was his. Called himself Leo.”

Of course. My stepbrother.

Victor hesitated. “You should come down here. This isn’t the kind of thing to explain over the phone.”

I grabbed my keys without another word. My coworkers shouted something after me as I stormed out, but the roar in my ears drowned it out. That watch was all I had left of my father. No property, no trust fund, no safety net—just the watch he wore until the end.

I still remembered his thin fingers unclasping it from his wrist as chemo drained him. His eyes had stayed clear even when his body was failing. “Yours now, Dan,” he whispered. “Don’t ever let it be taken.”

And I had let it slip.

Alderwood Pawn sat between a failing nail salon and a boarded-up bakery. The sign flickered, the windows barred. I pushed through the door and smelled dust, metal, and despair.

Behind the counter stood a square-shouldered man with weathered skin. “Kerrigan?” he asked.

I nodded.

“You’re the spitting image of your father,” he said, pulling out a dark green watch box. He popped it open. The Seamaster gleamed, the bezel nicked at four o’clock—a scar I remembered from when Dad slipped while fixing a railing.

My throat tightened. “Leo brought this in?”

“Tall, blonde, early twenties, cocky as hell. Said it was his inheritance.” Victor shook his head. “He couldn’t even pronounce Seamaster. That’s when I dug deeper.”

He pulled out a thin file. “Your father once pawned this himself. Sixteen years ago. Borrowed thirty-six hundred. Paid it back in a month. Cash.”

The pawn slip carried Dad’s signature. He had never told me.

Victor pressed a fingernail to a tiny groove in the clasp and a secret panel clicked open. From it, he drew a scrap of yellowing paper.

My hands shook as I unfolded it. The handwriting was unmistakable.

DANIEL, IF YOU FIND THIS, CHECK SAFE DEPOSIT BOX 407, MIDLAND TRUST. KEY IS BEHIND THE 10MM SOCKET.

I slid the note into my pocket.

Victor leaned back. “Most folks hide drugs in a watch. Your dad hid a map.”

I almost laughed. I left with the Omega strapped to my wrist.

By that evening I was at my mother’s house in Rosehill. Leo’s name was scrawled across financial notes on the table when I walked in. My stepfather, Gerald, bristled as I dropped the watch in front of them.

“Recognize this?”

My mother’s eyes went wide. Gerald stammered, “Where did you get it?”

“From the pawn shop where Leo sold it. He said it was his.”

“Dan, it’s not what it looks like,” my mother began, voice trembling.

“You pawned it for him. For his latest scheme.”

“He just needed a start,” she pleaded. “An investment for his app project.”

“That watch is the only thing Dad gave me!” I snapped.

Gerald leaned forward. “Leo is destined for more than patching roofs. He’s a visionary.”

I laughed bitterly. “A thief is what he is. And you enabled him.”

I pulled out the police report Victor had filed and dropped it on the table. Their faces drained of color. “This is official. Security footage, pawn slip, everything.”

“You’ll ruin him,” my mother cried.

“He ruined himself.”

I left before they could answer.

Later that night, I found Dad’s old toolbox in the shed behind his rented house. Hidden behind the 10mm socket was a brass key, exactly where he said.

At Midland Trust the next morning, a clerk handed me a slim metal box. Inside lay a sealed envelope and a black ledger. The envelope bore my name.

Dan, if you’re holding this, I’m gone. These are bearer bonds, over one hundred thousand dollars. The ledger records jobs I finished but never got paid for. Some crooks thought cancer would erase their debts. Take this money. Take this proof. Build your own life. Not your mother’s, not mine—yours. Dad.

I sat stunned. He had left me more than a watch. He had left me a way forward.

I hired a lawyer, Sofia Delgado, recommended by a friend. She flipped through the ledger with sharp eyes. “This is ironclad. Contractors hate paper trails, but your dad kept one. Reynolds & Keating Construction alone owe eighteen grand. We’ll have it in sixty days.”

She was right. Within weeks, checks started arriving. The bonds cashed clean. The ledger brought nearly forty thousand in recovered debts.

Meanwhile, Leo’s “big idea” collapsed. He had wasted everything on rented offices and a slick logo. My mother called, begging me to forgive. I sent her a copy of the police report and nothing more.

With Dad’s money, I bought a modest brick house near his old neighborhood. Two bedrooms, wide garage. His toolbox sits there now, polished and waiting.

The Omega rests on my nightstand. Some nights I open the hidden clasp and reread his note. You don’t owe anyone your future.

I finally understand. He didn’t just leave me time. He left me the chance to make it my own.