Morning came with noise.
Not the soft crow of roosters or the rustle of bamboo. No, this was louder—car engines, voices calling, footsteps crunching against gravel. Bianca rubbed her eyes as she stepped out onto the veranda and froze.
A line of people stretched all the way to the fountain. Some carried baskets, some held phones, others clutched envelopes of cash.
At the gate, Ramon was trying to manage the crowd. Lydia clutched Paolo close, whispering for him not to stray. Lara rushed out of the house in pajamas, phone buzzing in her hand.
"Oh my God," Lara breathed. "It's happening."
Bianca's stomach twisted.
---
The crowd pressed closer as soon as they saw her.
"There she is!" someone shouted. "The miracle girl!"
"Señorita Bianca, my mother is sick, please sell to us first—"
"I can pay double! Name your price!"
Phones were raised, cameras flashing. Strangers called her name like she was a celebrity.
Bianca stepped back instinctively. "Please… everyone, calm down—"
But her voice was drowned out by pleas, offers, even shouting.
Lara grabbed her arm. "B, this is good. Look at them—they believe. The vlog worked!"
Bianca looked again and saw more than belief—she saw desperation. The crowd was not here for novelty. They were here for salvation.
---
By noon, chaos reigned.
The veranda became a makeshift stall, baskets of guavas and mangoes lined up as Lydia struggled to keep count. Ramon carried crates back and forth, sweat beading on his forehead. Paolo tried to help, running with slips of paper, his little legs darting between customers.
Lara kept her phone propped on a tripod, livestreaming the madness. "Look, everyone! Hacienda Rodriguez is sold out again! You better place your orders fast before they're gone!"
Bianca tried to smile, but her heart was heavy. She felt like the fruits weren't being shared—they were being stripped away.
---
"₱5,000 for one basket? Too much!" a man in a polo shirt barked, waving his wallet.
"It's for healing," Lara countered, still cheerful. "We keep some at premium to sustain the farm."
But the man sneered. "You're exploiting people's sickness. Lower the price!"
Before Bianca could speak, a woman in tears stepped forward, clutching a rosary. "Please, don't argue. My husband can't walk. I'll pay whatever it takes."
The man glared, but she pressed her pesos into Lydia's hand, whispering, "For him. For hope."
Bianca's chest ached.
---
End of Chapter 27