The days following Mr. Kunda's visit were unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
The tomato harvest continued, and trucks arrived every morning to transport fresh produce to nearby towns. Workers laughed as they sorted ripe tomatoes into wooden crates, but Choolwe could not shake the feeling that someone was watching.
One evening, as the sun disappeared behind the hills, Twaambo walked through the fields to check the irrigation pumps.
Something caught his attention.
Fresh footprints.
They led from the road, through the tomato fields, and disappeared near one of the storage sheds.
He frowned.
"No one should be here after working hours."
He followed the footprints carefully.
The padlock on the shed had been forced open.
Inside, several boxes of farming records had been moved.
Nothing appeared to be stolen.
Instead, someone had searched through the files.
Twaambo immediately telephoned Choolwe.
---
Within minutes, the family gathered at the shed.
Chanda examined the broken lock.
"This wasn't done by children."
"No," Twaambo replied.
"They knew exactly what they were looking for."
Tamara searched through the scattered papers.
The land titles were untouched.
The family diaries remained safe.
But one file was missing.
"The partnership proposal," she said quietly.
"The copy Mr. Kunda left with us is gone."
Everyone exchanged worried looks.
"Why would someone steal their own proposal?" Luyando asked.
"So they can deny what was written in it," Choolwe answered.
"If they produce another version later, they can claim we misunderstood."
Tamara nodded.
"They're destroying evidence."
---
The following morning, Choolwe reported the break-in to the local police.
Inspector Simutwe visited the farm that afternoon.
After examining the damaged lock and footprints, he looked at Choolwe seriously.
"This wasn't an ordinary burglary."
"It appears someone wanted documents, not valuables."
"Can you investigate Mr. Kunda's company?" Choolwe asked.
The inspector sighed.
"I can."
"But be careful."
"Companies with money often have influence."
His warning reminded Choolwe of her mother's advice.
"The truth sometimes walks slowly, but it always arrives."
---
That evening, one of the farm workers approached Choolwe nervously.
His name was Patrick.
"I need to tell you something."
"What is it?"
"I saw someone meeting Mr. Kunda two nights ago."
"Who?"
Patrick hesitated.
"I couldn't see clearly."
"But..."
"But what?"
"The man came from this farm."
Silence filled the room.
From this farm?
Choolwe's heart sank.
Mweemba's warning echoed in her mind.
"The greatest danger will come from someone within..."
Patrick continued.
"I didn't recognize him because it was dark."
"But he wore the same overalls our workers wear."
No one spoke.
The possibility that someone inside the farm was secretly working against them was more painful than the attempted land grab itself.
Choolwe gathered all the workers the next morning.
She stood beneath the old mango tree.
"For years," she said calmly, "this farm has been built on trust."
"If anyone has been threatened or offered money to betray this family, now is the time to speak."
The workers looked at one another.
Most appeared shocked.
Others looked confused.
Then, from the back of the crowd, a young man slowly lowered his eyes.
His name was Brian.
He had joined the farm only six months earlier.
His hands trembled.
"I..."
Before he could continue, another worker interrupted.
"Brian has been receiving strange phone calls almost every evening."
Everyone turned toward him.
Brian looked frightened.
"I can explain..."
Choolwe raised her hand.
"No one will judge you."
"But today..."
"...the truth must come out."
Brian swallowed hard.
Then, with tears forming in his eyes, he spoke the words that changed everything.
"I never wanted to betray this family..."
"...but someone is threatening my mother's life."
The crowd gasped.
Whatever Mr. Kunda's company was planning, it was no longer just about land.
It had become a battle of fear, loyalty, and survival.