The coffee in Jenna Roland's cup had long gone cold, untouched. She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, leaving faint red marks on her scalp.

"Doesn't the Commerce Bureau have my father's records?" Her voice was strained.

Hugo Valence adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. "First, verify if the orchard transfer was legally processed. If the procedure was proper, the orchard is no longer yours."

Jenna clenched her fists. "If there were irregularities, could I reclaim it through litigation?"

"Theoretically, yes." Hugo nodded. "Prove unlawful seizure of property, and the court will rule in your favor."

"I'll check tomorrow." She bit her lower lip. "Hugo... is there still hope of uncovering the truth about my parents' case?"

His expression darkened. "After all these years, the evidence chain is likely broken. Unless new leads emerge..." He paused. "If the killer was meticulous, chances are slim."

Jenna lowered her voice abruptly. "Could it be my uncle?"

Hugo's gaze sharpened behind his lenses. "Do you have proof?"

"He burned all their belongings." Her fingers trembled. "Even their suicide note vanished. Why destroy everything unless he's guilty?"

Hugo considered this. "Search his home. If you find the note or evidence, the case could turn."

A cold glint flashed in Jenna's eyes. "Understood."

Hugo set down his cup and pulled out his wallet. Two hundred-dollar bills remained beneath the saucer. "Contact me with any leads." He stood, his suit pants sharply creased.

"Let me get the coffee," Jenna insisted, rising quickly.

The corner of Hugo's mouth lifted. "My principle is never letting a lady pay." He grabbed his briefcase, leaving a trace of crisp pine scent in his wake.

Jenna watched his tall figure disappear through the glass door.

When she sat again, the coffee was ice-cold. She downed it in one gulp, bitterness exploding on her tongue. Her hands shook violently around the cup—her parents had been murdered.

The porcelain clattered against the tray.

Whoever the killer was, she vowed to make them pay in blood.

Stepping outside, the harsh sunlight made her squint. Then her blood ran cold—Ethan Roscente was stepping out of a black sedan.

Their eyes locked. Jenna's mind went blank.

Ethan froze. At least it wasn't the custom Rolls-Royce today, he thought grimly. That would've been impossible to explain.