I looked down and saw an email notification.

The sender was Harper Sloane.

The subject line read: *Urgent: Revised Offer from Keene Trust.*

I quickly tapped the screen, my eyes scanning the text as the rain poured down around us.

“They just doubled the offer,” I whispered.

“What?” Alden asked, his head snapping toward me.

“Marisol Keene just increased her offer for the lower pasture by three million dollars,” I said.

“But there’s a condition.”

“What condition?”

“The sale must close by noon tomorrow,” I said.

“And I must sign a waiver releasing all claims to the zoning easement.”

I looked up from the screen.

Graham had stopped shaking the door.

He was looking at his own phone, which had just begun to buzz in his hand.

The screen of his phone cast a pale light over his wet face as he answered the call.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his eyes widening as he listened to the voice on the other end.

“When?” Graham asked.

His voice had lost its aggressive edge, replaced by something much colder.