The next few days after Aurora’s speech at the village square were uneasy but promising. A few neighbors had begun to greet her again, some even stopping by to buy strawberries. It wasn’t much, but it was hope—a fragile, budding trust she cherished more than jewels.

Ethan had seen the difference too. He kept working with his steady calm, never saying much, but the way he’d catch Aurora’s eye and give a small nod made her feel less alone.

For the first time in weeks, she dared to believe things might get better.

But peace never lasted long where Damien Blake was concerned.

It started with whispers again, carried on the wind by men in suits who didn’t belong in the village. They were seen speaking to suppliers, to buyers, even to truck drivers who delivered crates from Ethan’s farm. Soon after, shipments were delayed. A large restaurant in the city, one of their newest clients, suddenly canceled an order worth thousands.

Ethan frowned as he read the email, his jaw tightening. “They said our strawberries are... ‘unreliable in quality.’ That’s nonsense. They praised them last month.”

Aurora didn’t need to ask who was behind it. Damien’s hand was all over the sabotage—smooth, invisible, but undeniable.

Then came the real blow.

One morning, Ethan walked into the greenhouse to find entire rows of young strawberry plants withering. Leaves curled in on themselves, spotted black, the soil damp with a strange chemical smell. Aurora followed him in and froze at the sight.

“This... this wasn’t natural,” Ethan said, crouching to touch the soil. His face darkened. “Someone did this.”

Aurora’s heart pounded. She knelt beside him, fingers trembling as she touched a wilted leaf. The sickly stench clung to her skin. “Damien,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “It has to be.”

Ethan didn’t answer, but his silence spoke louder than words.

The damage was devastating. Nearly a third of the greenhouse crop was ruined. Ethan spent hours trying to salvage what he could, while Aurora worked beside him, repotting, trimming, washing soil from roots, anything to keep the plants alive. But they both knew the loss would cost them dearly.

By evening, they were exhausted, their hands stained with soil and their clothes drenched in sweat. Aurora slumped against a wooden beam, her chest tight with anger and helplessness.

“He won’t stop,” she said bitterly. “He’ll keep taking everything until there’s nothing left.”

Ethan set down his gloves and sat beside her, his face etched with quiet determination. “Then we don’t let him.”

Aurora turned to him, surprised by the steel in his voice. He wasn’t the timid boy from her childhood anymore, nor just the gentle farmer. He was someone who had built something with his own hands, someone who refused to surrender it.

“We’ll replant,” Ethan continued firmly. “It’ll take time, but the land recovers. We recover. He thinks he can scare us into giving up—but he doesn’t know us.”

Aurora’s throat tightened, moved by his resolve. “You don’t understand, Ethan. Damien... he’s ruthless. He doesn’t fight fair. I’ve seen him destroy people with nothing but a whisper.”

Ethan looked at her, his gaze steady. “Then it’s time we stop letting whispers control us. You stood up to him once. We’ll do it again.”

Aurora swallowed hard, her chest heavy with both fear and admiration. In that moment, Ethan’s quiet strength felt like the only thing keeping her standing.

Still, the next days grew harder. Orders dwindled. More plants failed. And in town, rumors flared anew—that Aurora had cursed the farm, that she was bad luck, that working with her would only bring ruin. Damien’s influence was a net, tightening around them.

One evening, as Aurora walked home from the fields, she spotted a familiar figure leaning casually against a lamppost. Her blood ran cold.

“Good evening, Aurora,” Damien drawled, stepping into the light. His tailored suit gleamed in the dusk, his smile sharp as glass.

She froze, fists clenched. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking in,” he said smoothly. “I heard about the little... mishap with your crops. Tragic, really. But perhaps avoidable.”

Her stomach twisted. “What are you implying?”

Damien’s smile widened. “I’m offering you a way out. Come back to me. Admit you made a mistake. I could make all of this... disappear. Your reputation restored, your comforts returned. One word from me, and this nightmare ends.”

Aurora’s hands shook, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “You think I’d crawl back to you after everything you’ve done?”

His expression darkened, just for a heartbeat, before the mask returned. “Think carefully, Aurora. You don’t belong in the dirt. You never will. Stay here long enough, and you’ll lose what little dignity you have left.”

She glared at him, her voice trembling with fury. “I’d rather have dirt on my hands than blood on my conscience. Go back to your world of lies, Damien. I’m done with you.”

For the first time, his smile faltered, thin and sharp as a blade. He leaned closer, his whisper venomous. “You’ll regret this.”

Aurora stood frozen until he walked away, his shadow stretching long behind him. Only when he disappeared into the night did she let herself breathe, her knees threatening to give way.

When she returned to the farmhouse, Ethan was waiting at the porch. One look at her pale face, and his brow furrowed. “He was here, wasn’t he?”

Aurora nodded, tears threatening to spill. “He wants me back. He says he can make it all stop.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, his voice quiet but unwavering. “He’s afraid. That’s why he’s pushing harder. Don’t let him break you, Aurora.”

She sank onto the steps beside him, the night air cool against her flushed skin. Ethan reached out, covering her trembling hands with his.

“Whatever he does,” he said softly, “we’ll face it together.”

For the first time that day, Aurora let herself lean against him, drawing strength from his warmth. Damien’s shadow loomed larger than ever—but in Ethan’s steady presence, she found a flicker of courage that refused to die.

The war had begun, and Damien’s attacks would only worsen. But Aurora realized something vital that night: she was no longer fighting alone.