The blonde woman laughed.
“Oh, how bold. Seriously, Vic, tell her to move. Or I will.”
Victor was about to step out when the truck’s system rang. An international call lit up the dashboard. His face went pale.
“Answer it,” the woman said. “It’s probably about the city deal.”
He pressed the button.
“Mr. Hayes,” a voice said in accented English, “our board has reviewed the documents. There are inconsistencies. If you cannot provide the original signed waiver from the legal owner by midnight today, the agreement will be canceled. Legal action for fraud will follow. No extensions.”
The line went dead.
Silence filled the truck.
The woman turned slowly toward Victor. “What do they mean by fraud?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, his gaze shifted to Elena—no longer arrogant, but desperate.
Elena felt the folded papers hidden inside her shawl, stitched carefully against her chest. The real deeds. The land, the water, the mill—everything Victor believed he had taken.
“Get in,” he said, stepping out. “We’re settling this in town.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Yes, you are,” he snapped. “If you don’t sign, I’ll make sure you lose everything. Even those children when they’re born.”
The threat cut through the air.
Not because she feared him.
But because he had touched the one thing that mattered most.
Elena looked at him quietly, then turned and began walking toward town—not out of obedience, but because she had already decided this would end today.
The town square was nearly empty in the heat, but as the truck pulled in, people began to gather. Mr. Joe stopped working on a bicycle. Mrs. Martha stepped out of her store. The men playing dominoes went silent. Within minutes, the air was thick with tension.
Victor wanted an audience.
He needed one.
He stepped out, letting his fiancée—Rebecca—exit first. She adjusted her sunglasses, scanning the crowd like she was stepping onto a stage.
“There she is,” Victor announced loudly. “The queen of misery.”
He pulled out a leather folder and a thick stack of cash.
“This is more money than you’ll ever see,” he said. “Sign the waiver, take it, and disappear.”
The bills fell at Elena’s feet.
No one moved.
Elena glanced at the money, then at Victor, then toward the town hall—where Mr. Lawrence, the local notary, stood quietly watching.
He gave a small nod.
That was enough.