Chapter 3

3

I sat on my bed, playing through every detail of my past life before getting up and heading to my desk to open my laptop.

The first thing I had to do was get my grandparents out of that house.

They died last time because they couldn't run fast enough. This time, I'd have them in New York before the disaster even began.

I dialed a number.

It rang three times before someone picked up.

"Ms. Hayes?" It was my assistant, Chloe. She sounded groggy, having just been woken up.

"Chloe, I'm sorry to call so early," I said. "I need you to handle two things immediately. First, book three tickets from New York to Philadelphia for tomorrow morning, then arrange a car to drive them straight to Honey Brook. Second, contact the local Chinese place, 'Honey Brook Bistro.' Tell the owner that my grandparents will be there for lunch tomorrow and to please look after them. I'll cover the bill."

"Are your family coming to New York, Ms. Hayes?"

"Yes," I said. "They're staying with me for a while. Get my midtown apartment ready. Clean it, and switch the sheets to the cotton ones they like."

"Understood. I'm on it."

I hung up and checked the time: 4:17 AM.

Four hours until sunrise.

I opened TikTok and searched for #SupportLocalFarmers.

Sure enough, his video was at the top.

He was sitting on his farm, wearing a faded work shirt with fields of blueberries behind him. He looked straight into the camera, his eyes watering, his voice trembling.

"Friends, I'm Silas Croft, a farmer from Honey Brook, Pennsylvania. I've been growing blueberries for twenty years. We had a massive harvest this year, twelve thousand pounds. My niece runs a produce company in New York, and I asked for her help to move the stock. She agreed, but now she's demanding an 'inspection,' claiming our produce isn't… clean…"

He took off his glasses to wipe his eyes.

"I'm not doing this for myself. I want the young people in this town to see that there's a future in farming. But my niece… she's forgotten where she came from."

The comments section was already a war zone.

"Support Uncle Silas!" "Farmers are the backbone of this country!" "Who is the boss of FreshLeaf? Go flood her account!"

I closed TikTok, a thin smile on my lips.

In my past life, when that video dropped, I panicked.

I called him, begging, "Uncle, please take it down, let's talk," but he refused, spitting, "Let the whole world see how you treat your own blood!"

The scandal destroyed me.

This time, I wasn't panicked.

I almost wanted to thank him. Thank him for setting up his "honest farmer" persona so perfectly.

Because it was going to make the reversal feel so much more satisfying.