That afternoon, Zara met with Chen and the sugar workers at the market. The group's leader, a tall man named Winston, had spent thirty years working the fields and knew every inch of the Southern Province.
"Vance has been buying up land from desperate farmers for pennies on the dollar," Winston explained, spreading out a map of the area on a wooden table. "He claims he's building a processing plant, but we've seen the plans—he's actually planning to build luxury vacation homes and a private golf course. The processing plant is just a cover to get the permits approved."
Chen pulled up satellite images of the plantation house. "We've identified at least six security posts around the property, plus cameras covering all the access roads. But there's a narrow trail through the mountains that leads to the back of the estate—used to be a smuggling route back in the day. Only locals know about it."
"Then that's how we'll get in," Zara said, studying the map. "Maya and Sasha can continue gathering evidence from the farmers while Chen and I use the trail to conduct surveillance on the plantation house. If we can get footage of Vance meeting with corrupt officials or planning intimidation tactics, we'll have the proof we need."
Over the next few days, their plan began to take shape. Maya set up a secure database to organize all the information they were collecting, while Sasha worked to build trust with more farmers, assuring them that they wouldn't be left vulnerable if they came forward. Chen spent his days mapping the trail through the mountains and identifying the best spots to place surveillance equipment.
Zara spent her time visiting farms across the province, listening to stories of loss and fear—but also of hope. She met families who'd been working their land for generations, who dreamed of passing it down to their children. She saw the resilience in their eyes, the same resilience she'd seen in her own community.
One evening, as she sat on Derrick's porch watching the sun set over the fields, Sasha joined her with two glasses of spiced fruit drink.
"Do you really think we can win this?" Sasha asked, looking out at the darkening landscape.
Zara took a sip of the sweet drink, then nodded. "Change doesn't happen overnight," she said. "But every time someone decides to stand up instead of staying silent, every time we share our stories and work together—we plant a seed of resistance. And eventually, those seeds grow into something strong enough to change the world."
As they sat there, they could hear voices carrying across the fields—farmers talking, children laughing, the sound of a community beginning to find its voice again. The road ahead was still long and dangerous, but Zara knew that they were no longer fighting alone.
And that was already a victory.