"Miss Roland, this is Howard Wen." The voice on the phone was both familiar and strange.

Jenna's fingers tightened instantly, her nails digging into her palms. She'd recognize that voice anywhere—even in death.

"You dare call me?" Her tone could freeze hell.

"Please don't be angry." Howard's voice oozed appeasement. "I've reclaimed your parents' orchard from your uncle. When would be convenient to transfer the deed?"

Jenna froze.

"What did you say?" She couldn't believe her ears.

"I knew your uncle seized the property, so I retrieved it for you." Howard explained. "Consider it... an apology for past wrongs."

A cold laugh escaped her. "Since when did you grow a conscience?"

"I genuinely want to make amends." Sincerity dripped from his words. "Three o'clock this afternoon at the Land Resources Bureau?"

"Fine." She hung up without ceremony.

Turning to Milo, her eyes blazed with intensity. "We're getting the orchard back!"

"Who helped?" Milo frowned.

"An... acquaintance." She evaded. "We're finalizing the paperwork this afternoon."

As Milo opened his mouth to press further, Jenna was already mapping out plans. "Once we have the orchard, I'm quitting the clothing business!"

"What about all this inventory?" He gestured at the mountain of garments.

"Sell what we can." Her smile reached her eyes. "I'll wear the rest myself!"

She discreetly texted Ethan. Joy aside, she hadn't forgotten Howard's true nature.

Ethan replied instantly: 【I'll go with you.】

At 2:30 PM, Jenna arrived early outside the government building. The early spring wind carried a chill, yet her skin burned with anticipation.

"Waiting long?" Ethan's voice brushed her ear.

Before she could turn, strong arms pulled her into a warm embrace. His lips grazed the corner of her mouth.

"People are watching!" Flustered, she pushed him away, cheeks flaming.

Ethan chuckled, tightening his grip on her shoulder. "Let them."

Sheltered against his chest, her heartbeat thundered. Eyes fixed on the intersection, she awaited the man who held her future in his hands—equal parts hope and trepidation coursing through her veins.