My grandma left $100,000 to my greedy cousin. I inherited only her old dog—until I discovered the secret it was hiding.

His joints ache, his eyes get cloudy around the edges, and sometimes he forgets where he was going halfway down the hall.

But at night, when he curls against my bed and lets out a long sigh, I feel this strange steadiness, like Grandma is still here, supervising from somewhere I cannot see.Sometimes I hold his tag in my hand and run my thumb over the engraving, over the code that changed everything, and I think about how she hid the biggest thing she owned on the smallest, most ordinary object in her house.