The spade struck metal with a dull, hollow clang. Andrew froze, sweat dripping into his eyes despite the chill evening air. He knelt lower, scraping dirt away until a corner of something hard emerged. The garden’s soil, heavy and damp, reluctantly surrendered what had been buried deep for decades.
With each heave of the shovel, the outline grew clearer—an iron-bound chest, its wood swollen with age. Andrew’s pulse quickened as he tugged at the corroded handles. The weight surprised him. Whatever lay inside had remained undisturbed, perhaps untouched since the war years his uncle had lived through.
He dragged the chest onto the grass, panting, fingers trembling on the clasp. For a moment, he hesitated. His mind conjured all the whispered family rumors: murder, stolen wealth, dark secrets his uncle never spoke of. What if this chest confirmed the worst suspicions about the old man?