Chapter 2

Once they actually start cooking, the heat and smoke will torch what’s left of GoldenGrain-9.

Open flame kills the topsoil.

The damage can be permanent.

"I’m Hunter Sinclair’s fiancée!" I scream, and I can hear the shame in my own voice.

"You’re really going to do this to me on Sinclair property?!"

It’s the only card I have left.

"Hunter will come. He has to."

Because let’s be real — the only reason the government put this project on Sinclair land is because he was marrying me.

I’m the lead scientist on GoldenGrain.

That’s the whole reason his family was granted the honor.

For half a second, Chelsea looks panicked.

Then her face goes full monster.

She crouches down, grabs a fistful of my hair, and yanks my head up.

"Fiancée? Oh, sweetie. Thanks for reminding me."

She smiles, and it’s poison.

"Some dirt farmer thinks she can compete with me? You think growing wheat is going to make Hunter love you?"

She slaps me.

Once.

Twice.

Five, six times, back and forth.

Blood fills my mouth.

"Get this through your skull. There is only one woman in the Sinclair house, and it’s me. Hunter belongs to me. You? You’re a tool. A shovel. Nothing."

She lets go and stands up, smoothing her skirt.

"Hold her," she snaps at the goons. "I want her to see who runs this place."

Flames leap up out of the pits.

Their damn barbecue is underway.

Greasy black smoke rolls over my field.

My wheat stalks wilt in it.

I’m still pinned down, watching everything die.

"Let go of me! You don’t know what you’re doing!" My voice is shredded.

"Shut up, hillbilly!" One of them clamps a hand around my throat. "Scream again and I’ll shut you up for good."

My phone slides out of my pocket and lands face-up in the dirt.

They’re all crowded around the meat.

I stretch my fingers, inch by inch, until I can just tap the screen.

"Hunter. Help me. They’re destroying the field."

I send it to the only number I know by heart.

My hands are shaking so badly I can barely see.

"He’ll come. He has to."

He’s my fiancé.

He knows what this project means — for the country, for his own company.

Ten minutes later, Hunter walks through the gate.

My heart cracks open with relief.

I twist against the goons.

"Hunter! Over here!"

He’s frowning, scanning the destroyed field.

Chelsea’s whole crew stares at him, waiting to get busted.

I’m waiting for him to go nuclear.

Instead, the first words out of his mouth are for her.

"Chels, look at you, all sweaty. Having too much fun?" His voice is soft as butter.

Something in my chest just… drops.