PART 5 — THE MAN MY FATHER FEARED
I read my father's letter slowly.
Every sentence made my hands colder.
He wrote about the farm.
About the years he had spent building it.
About the debts he had once struggled to pay.
Then he mentioned a name.
“Victor Hale.”
I had never heard it before.
The letter continued.
Victor had approached my father years earlier.
He wanted to buy a large portion of the farmland.
My father refused.
According to the letter, Victor had returned several times.
He offered more money.
Then even more.
My father still refused.
Finally, he wrote:
“Victor does not want the farm because of agriculture. He knows what lies beneath this land.”
I stopped reading.
What lay beneath the land?
I continued.
My father described geological surveys conducted decades earlier.
There were mineral deposits beneath parts of the property.
Not enough to make us rich immediately.
But enough to make the land extremely valuable to the right company.
I stared at the page.
Suddenly, everything began to make sense.
The industrial building.
The loans.
The secret company.
The strange contracts.
Alonzo wasn't simply stealing farming profits.
He might have been preparing to sell something much bigger.
The land itself.
But why?
I read further.
My father wrote:
“If I am gone, do not trust anyone who suddenly becomes interested in purchasing the farm.”
Then another sentence:
“Especially someone working through family.”
I froze.
Family.
My father had suspected someone would use Alonzo.
Or perhaps Alonzo had already been involved.
At the bottom of the letter was a handwritten phone number.
No name.
Just the number.
I took a photograph and sent it to Daniel.
He called within minutes.
“Where did you get this?”
“My father's attic.”
“Don't contact the number.”
“Why?”
“I want to investigate it first.”
He called back two hours later.
His voice sounded different.
More serious than before.
“That number belongs to a consulting firm.”
“What kind?”
“Real estate and mineral development.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Who is their biggest client?”
“Victor Hale.”
The name from my father's letter.
I sat silently.
Daniel continued.
“There is more.”
“What?”
“Victor Hale's company has been trying to acquire farmland in this region for the past six years.”
“How much?”
“Several thousand hectares.”
“And our land?”
“Two hundred hectares.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That's a tiny piece compared to that.”
“Not if your land sits on the right geological formation.”
I looked toward the fields.
The land suddenly looked different.
Not like farmland.
Like a secret.
I asked:
“What does Alonzo have to do with Victor?”
“We're still investigating.”
That evening, Daniel sent me a file.
It contained corporate records.
Victor Hale's company had no direct agreement with Alonzo.
But one of its subsidiaries had contracted Green Valley Agricultural Services.
I stared at the screen.
The connection was finally visible.
Alonzo's wife's company had received consulting fees from Victor's subsidiary.
Payments had been made every month.
For years.
I couldn't breathe.
“How much?”
Daniel replied:
“Approximately $8,000 per month.”
Eight thousand dollars.
Every month.
For nearly four years.
That was almost four hundred thousand dollars.
Money Alonzo had never mentioned.
Money connected to the company secretly operating around our farm.
I asked:
“What exactly were they paying for?”
Daniel sent another document.
“Land access consulting.”
I stared at those words.
“Land access?”
“Yes.”
“Meaning?”
“It appears your brother was providing information about the property.”
I felt betrayed in a way I had never experienced before.
He wasn't simply hiding money.
He was selling information about our family land.
Without me.
Daniel then said:
“There's one more document.”
It was an internal email from Victor's company.
The subject line read:
Project 200 — Final Acquisition Strategy
My hands trembled.
I opened it.
The email discussed acquiring the remaining 200 hectares.
It described the land as “strategically essential.”
Then I saw the line that made my blood run cold.
“Alonzo believes his sister will accept a reasonable settlement once the debt pressure increases.”
I stopped breathing.
They were planning to pressure me.
The loans.
The hidden debts.
The financial confusion.
All of it suddenly looked deliberate.
They wanted the farm to appear financially unstable.
Then they would offer me money to walk away.
I called Daniel.
“He knew.”
“Who?”
“Alonzo.”
“How do you know?”
I read him the email.
He was silent.
Then he said:
“We need to move quickly.”
“What should I do?”
“Don't sell anything.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Don't sign anything.”
“I won't.”
“And most importantly, don't tell Alonzo what we found.”
I looked at the dark window.
“Then what do I do?”
“Wait.”
“For what?”
“For the moment when he believes you still trust him.”
The next morning, Alonzo called.
His voice sounded cheerful.
“Hey, sister. I was thinking we should finally settle something about the farm.”
My heart began pounding.
“What?”
“I think we should sell part of the property.”
I remained silent.
He continued.
“You've always said you don't want to deal with farming.”
“That was nine years ago.”
“Yes, but nothing has changed.”
I looked at my father's letter sitting on the table.
Everything had changed.
But Alonzo didn't know that I knew.
“How much are they offering?” I asked.
He hesitated.
“About four hundred thousand dollars.”
I almost laughed.
Four hundred thousand?
For 200 hectares?
It was absurdly low.
“Who is buying?”
“A private development group.”
“What are they planning to build?”
“I'm not sure.”
That was the first lie he told that I could hear clearly.
I smiled.
“Let me think about it.”
“Of course.”
After the call ended, I looked at Daniel.
He had been listening.
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes.”
“What do we do?”
Daniel picked up his phone.
“We stop them.”
But neither of us realized…
Alonzo already knew we were investigating.
