Jenna Roland rode her e-bike down the country lane, tires crunching over gravel. The orchard's iron gate stood ajar. She rode straight in and found Victor Roland working beneath an apple tree.

"Uncle." Jenna cut to the chase. "We need to talk."

Victor wiped sweat from his brow, hands still busy. "What's so urgent?"

Jenna pulled a red booklet from her bag and slapped it onto a crate of apples. "I'm married. According to the will, the orchard belongs to me now."

Victor's hand froze midair. He picked up the marriage certificate with suspicion. On the first page, a man with sharp features stared back—impeccable suit, eyes cold as ice.

"Jenna!" Victor snapped the booklet shut. "You'd play with marriage for a damn orchard?"

"Ethan Roscente is an HM Group executive. Seven-figure salary." Jenna clenched her fists. "We've been dating three months."

"Bullshit!" Victor hurled the certificate back. "A man like that would want you?"

Ice flashed in Jenna's eyes. "This orchard was my parents'. Hand it over, or we settle this in court."

Victor's face twisted. He grabbed an apple and threw it. "Ungrateful brat! After all I've done for you and Milo!"

The apple whizzed past Jenna's ear, exploding against the tree trunk.

"Court it is." She snatched the certificate and turned.

Victor's roar followed her. "Your dead parents must be rolling in their graves!"

The curses echoed through the orchard. Workers kept their heads down, silent.

Jenna revved her e-bike and sped away. Wind stung her eyes, but tears came anyway.

Her phone buzzed. Wiping her face, she saw Milo's call. She declined, pulling over to steady her breath.

At her fruit stand, she rolled up the shutter and flipped the "Open" sign. A quick social media post:

[Urgent: Need reliable lawyer. Paying well.]

Two customers came and went. Jenna weighed fruit mechanically, Victor's snarling face haunting her.

"Jenna!" Milo's cheerful voice chirped through the phone. "Can we have cola chicken wings for lunch?"

Her lips curved despite herself. "Sure. I'll make them at noon."

Hanging up, she stared at their sibling photo on her screen—the only reason she kept going.

Closing time. Ninety dollars in the till. Jenna locked up and headed to the market. The mingled scents of cola and chicken wings brought back memories of New Year's dinners when their parents were alive.