In a single day, I lost my job, my home, and my father. At the will reading, my sister Synthia inherited the house and shut me out, leaving me with nothing but Dad’s old apiary. With nowhere else to go, I moved into a barn on the property and decided to stay, even when Synthia mocked me. I spent my last savings on a tent and began learning beekeeping from Greg, Dad’s old partner. The work was hard and exhausting, but it gave me a sense of purpose. I was determined not to give up.
One evening, disaster struck—a fire broke out and destroyed my tent, nearly taking the beehives with it. Neighbors came to help, led by Greg, and we managed to save the hives. Synthia, watching from the house, hadn’t lifted a finger. As we harvested the honey, I found a hidden envelope labeled “For Adele.” Inside was a handwritten will from Dad, leaving everything—house, land, and apiary—to me. He had hidden it in the one place Synthia would never look: the hives she hated.
I confronted Synthia with the real will. She was speechless as I laid it in front of her, explaining Dad had always seen me as his true daughter. I told her she could stay—but only if we ran the place together. After a pause, she agreed, with one condition: she wouldn’t touch the bees. I smiled. “Deal.” Slowly, the tension began to fade. We had a long way to go, but it was a start.
In the weeks that followed, I sold my first jars of honey, and the apiary began to thrive. Synthia took care of the house while I worked the hives, and Greg became a trusted friend. Though life was far from perfect, it was finally mine. Dad had believed in me, and that belief lit a fire nothing could burn down. I had found my purpose—and my place to belong.