Morning sunlight cut through Rodriguez Shipping headquarters, harsh and unforgiving. The building felt like a tomb, employees moving like ghosts, their futures evaporating with each passing hour. Stefan stood at his window, throat constricting as he watched the harbor. Last year, a dozen ships bearing his family name had dotted these waters. Now only two remained, forlorn specks against the vast blue that once was his birthright.

The grandfather clock, a family ...