She was a shark. And sharks have to keep moving forward, or they drown.

Her local bank, First Rural, said no. "Insufficient collateral," the loan officer had said, not unkindly. "Your assets are still on the trees, Ms. Voss. We can’t lend against blossoms."

July was a furnace. The cherries came in fat and dark, like rubies. Elara worked eighteen-hour days, her hands stained purple, her shoulders screaming. The harvest was massive—bigger than her father had seen in a decade.

Dante raised his fee to 5%. "Higher risk in peak season," he said, shrugging. "If your buyer goes bankrupt before they pay me, I eat the loss. That’s the bet."

Working capital isn't about the money. It's about the time between the money.