She would have defended every hour, every winter, every dollar, every bruise of effort the place had taken from her body.
She would have begged her mother to see her.
That morning, she simply watched Vivien’s perfect nails flash in the sun.
“Legal counsel,” Sienna repeated.
Vivien’s mouth tightened.
“Do not make this theatrical.”
Sienna almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because it had taken her thirty years to understand that silence from cruel people is not peace.
It is just planning without witnesses.
She slid Garrett’s printed email into her back pocket.
Then she went back to work.
By noon, the farm was busy.
Two wedding planners had arrived to see the west field.
