When my father died, I thought I had lost everything. My sister, Synthia, took the house, leaving me with only an apiary. “You can sleep in the barn,” she said, smirking.
I moved into the barn, determined to make the best of it. The bees were intimidating, but Greg, my father’s old beekeeper, taught me how to care for them.
Then, a fire nearly destroyed the hives. The neighbors helped put it out, while Synthia watched from the house. Afterward, Greg suggested I check the hives carefully.
Hidden inside was my father’s real will—the house was mine all along.
When I showed Synthia, she had no choice but to accept the truth. Instead of forcing her out, I offered to share the property. She agreed, though she refused to help with the bees.
What seemed like a cruel twist of fate turned into a second chance—one I never expected.
