Michael Sterling didn't flinch when his attorney delivered the bad news.
"The GPS survey results are strong," Halbron said, sliding the papers across the table. "The court will likely accept them."
Sterling didn't look at the documents. He stared instead at the window of his office suite high above downtown Portland, watching the rain pelt against glass in rhythmic lines. The view always calmed him—everything below small and manageable. Predictable.
But Elara Honeyfern had become the exception.
"She shouldn't be this good at fighting," he murmured.
"She's not," Halbron replied. "She's just not alone anymore."
That, more than anything, made Sterling's jaw tighten. For weeks, he'd watched public opinion in Wisteria Bay shift like tidewater—subtle, but unmistakable. The editorial hadn't landed. The injunction had stalled. The stolen boundary marker hadn't slowed the surveyor. And now, the town council—the very people he thought were already in his pocket—were wavering.
"She's using sentiment," he said. "Photographs and wildflower stories. That doesn't hold in court."
"But it holds in the hearts of small-town voters," Halbron said carefully. "You knew that going in."
Sterling's eyes narrowed. "Then it's time we remind them what the world really runs on."
The next morning, Elara found the threat waiting at the edge of the property.
A construction crew.
Three bulldozers. Two backhoes. An entire flatbed of steel fencing. The company's logo—BrightCo Development—was stenciled in yellow across the side of each vehicle.
Rowan met her at the top of the ridge, panting. "They're claiming it's a public works project. Drainage testing for the adjacent parcel."
"But it's not a public works site," Elara said, voice hard.
Rowan pointed toward the bulldozers now revving their engines just beyond the stone marker Marta had flagged. "No. But it is land still under court dispute. He's trying to provoke us."
Carmen was on speakerphone within minutes.
"He's skating the edge of legal gray," she said. "Drainage surveys are often used as cover for ground destabilization. If he moves the soil enough to damage your boundary line, it'll look like an accident—like your survey was inaccurate."
"Can he get away with that?"
"If you let it happen without protest, yes."
Elara's voice shook. "Then I won't let it happen."
She and Rowan arrived before the first bulldozer crossed the flagged boundary.
She stood directly in its path, arms crossed. Mud splashed onto her boots, wind flattening her coat. Behind her, Rowan took out his phone and began to film.
The driver honked. Then again.
Sterling himself stepped out of a sleek black SUV parked nearby, umbrella tilted against the rain. "You're standing on emotion," he said. "I'm standing on permits."
"Your permits are fraudulent," Elara replied. "This is a court-sealed property until the ruling."
"The ruling hasn't come down yet," he said coolly. "And until it does, I have every right to explore adjacent terrain. Check the clause."
"I'm not moving."
He stepped closer, the umbrella not quite shielding the chill in his voice. "You're making a mistake."
"I've made a hundred," she said. "Let this be the right one."
By the time the sheriff arrived, half the town had seen the video Rowan posted online. It spread faster than Elara expected: Sterling's bulldozers vs. one woman in boots. The sheriff ordered the construction paused pending further review of court jurisdiction.
Sterling walked back to his car without another word.
But Elara didn't miss the look he gave her before he turned away.
It wasn't rage.
It was calculation.
That night, an envelope arrived tucked inside her screen door.
No return address.
Inside: copies of foreclosure notices.
Dozens of them. Names she recognized. Neighbors. Volunteers. Every person who had signed her support petition now had a lien pending from various holding companies.
Rowan read over her shoulder and cursed under his breath.
"These are his shell corps," he said. "He's using real estate pressure to choke them out."
Elara gripped the envelope, heart pounding. "He's not just targeting me. He's punishing loyalty."
She looked up toward the dark ridge, the trees now shadowed and still.
"He's not trying to win in court anymore," she whispered. "He's trying to burn the whole town down."