WINSTON POVI barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same three things: my grandfather's letter, his journals, and that photograph.For years, I believed I knew every important chapter of his life. Apparently, I didn't.The next morning, I arrived at the office before everyone else. The building was unusually quiet—no executives, no assistants, and no meetings. Just me.I placed my grandfather's journals on my desk one last time before closing them. There was only one person left who might know the whole story. I picked up my office phone."Benjamin.""Yes, Sir?""I need the contact information of Attorney Salvador."A brief silence followed. "The former family lawyer?""Yes.""I'll arrange it immediately."Less than an hour later, the elderly lawyer walked into my office. Attorney Salvador had worked with my grandfather for more than thirty years before retiring.His hair had completely turned white, and his posture wasn't as straight as I remembered, but his eyes remai
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