Eventually, I found what I was looking for the Kensington booth, easily the most elegant and sophisticated at the event. In contrast to Sunvale’s over-the-top splash of colors, Kensington leaned into earthy tones, fine wood, and soft lighting, evoking the atmosphere of their centuries-old cellars.
And there was Christian, leading a special tasting for several important buyers. Even from a distance, his presence was magnetic. The perfectly tailored suit, the confident posture, the way he gestured as he described the wine’s qualities… For a moment, I was spellbound, forgetting why I had even come.
As if sensing my gaze, he suddenly lifted his head. Our eyes met across the crowded hall, and for an instant, the world around us seemed to disappear. Something flickered in his eyes-surprise, confusion, and maybe… remorse?
I was the first to look away, retreating behind a column. My heart was racing, and I had to take several deep breaths to steady myself. I came here for a reason, I reminded myself. No emotional distractions.
The loudspeakers announced that Kensington’s main presentation would begin in fifteen minutes in the auditorium. I followed the small crowd making its way there, keeping to the back rows, almost hidden in the shadows.
The minutes ticked by slowly as the auditorium filled. I saw Marcus coordinating the tech team, checking final details. Christian stood at the corner of the stage, reviewing something on his tablet, completely focused. Now and then, his gaze swept across the audience, as if searching for someone.
For me? The thought was absurd, but I couldn’t shake it.
The presentation began right on time. Christian took the microphone with the ease of someone born for the spotlight. His voice carried effortlessly through the auditorium as he spoke about Kensington’s history, their traditional methods, and the innovation they sought for the future.
The multimedia worked flawlessly, with no sign of technical glitches. Elegant slides complemented his words, videos of the vineyards conveyed the unique atmosphere of the estate. My warning had clearly done its job-there was no trace of the sabotage Edward had planned.
Halfway through, while Christian spoke about sustainability, his eyes found mine again. For a second, he faltered -an almost imperceptible pause to most, but unmistakable to me. Then he continued as if nothing had happened, his tone professional and controlled.
I waited until the end of the Q&A before slipping out discreetly. My mission was accomplished-the presentation was a success. It was time to go.
I returned to the mansion in another silent taxi ride, the driver as taciturn as before, giving me space for my thoughts to spiral. The entire way, I scrolled through hotel listings on my phone. Nothing, Either fully booked for the event, or charging outrageous rates.
I could head to the bus station, take a ride to a smaller, cheaper town nearby-or even endure the long overnight trip back to Solara. Anything seemed better than staying in that mansion, knowing what he really thought of me.
When the taxi pulled up to the estate’s grand entrance, I paid quickly and climbed the steps, already mentally packing my things to leave as soon as possible. I pushed open the front door without ceremony, so lost in my plans that I nearly collided with the imposing figure standing in the entrance hall.
“Careful, my dear!” said a familiar voice, firm hands steadying me.
I looked up, startled, and found myself staring at Joseph Kensington. His face looked more lined than I remembered, as if he’d aged years in jast three months. But his eyes-those piercing blue eyes so much like Christian’s-still shone with the same warmth that had welcomed me the first time.
“Mr. Kensington!” I gasped, trying to mask my shock. “I… I thought you were in Valentia.”
“I came back early.” He smiled, though there was a weariness behind it. “Urgent matters. And please, call me Joseph. After all, you’ll be a Kensington soon enough.”
My stomach lurched violently. Christian really hadn’t told him about the breakup.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.
He clasped my hands between his, that paternal gesture that always disarmed me.
“The pleasure is mine, dear.” His smile widened. “It’s good to see my grandson hasn’t ruined everything with you yet.”
Joseph’s words lingered in the air while I struggled to keep my composure. My mind raced, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound like an outright lie yet wouldn’t reveal the painful truth either.
“I hope you had a good trip,” I said at last, choosing to shift the subject. “I hope it was a pleasant journey.” Joseph offered me his arm, guiding me toward the living room. His steps were slower than I remembered, as though each movement demanded deliberate effort.
“The trip was… productive,” he replied, his voice carrying a nuance I couldn’t quite interpret. “Please, sit. I’ll have them bring some of that tea you liked last time.”
I sat on the sofa while Joseph gave a discreet signal to one of the maids. The familiarity with which he treated me, as though I were already part of the family, made my chest tighten. He remembered the tea I liked. Such a small detail, yet so meaningful.
“Have you and Christian started thinking about dates?” he asked once he’d composed himself, as if the coughing spell hadn’t happened. “For the wedding, I mean. I’m sorry my trip delayed things.”
My stomach dropped. How could Christian let his grandfather believe this lie for so long? What was he waiting for?
“We… we’re still discussing it,” I answered carefully. “There are many things to consider.”
“Of course, of course.” He nodded, understanding. “But don’t take too long. Life is too precious to waste on indecision, don’t you think?”
There was something in his tone, a veiled urgency that made me study him more closely. The dark circles under his eyes, the subtle pallor, the way his hand drifted to his chest now and then as though to soothe an ache. Joseph Kensington was not well.
“Are you feeling alright?” I asked gently.
A tired smile crossed his face.
“Just the weight of years, my dear. Nothing to worry about.”
The maid returned with the tea, sparing us from the delicate conversation for the moment. As she poured, I noticed Joseph discreetly pulling a small pill bottle from the inner pocket of his jacket. He slipped one into his mouth quickly, trying to mask the movement behind his teacup.
It was time to change the subject.
“How were things in Valentia?” I asked once we were alone again. “Christian said it was an important trip.”
Joseph raised a brow, studying me for what felt like an eternity.
“He didn’t tell you the truth, did he?”
“Apparently Christian hides a lot of truths,” I muttered, unable to hold back the edge of bitterness.
To my surprise, Joseph laughed. A short, almost bitter laugh that ended in another fit of coughing.
“Don’t be angry with him,” he said once he caught his breath. “The secret was at my request. I thought the fewer people who knew, the better for everyone.”
My brow furrowed. What secret were we talking about?
“I don’t understand…”
“Valentia has some of the best specialists in the world,” he continued, his voice lower now. “I went for a consultation with a renowned cardiologist. The doctors here had already run out of options and…”
He stopped abruptly, his hand clutching at his chest again. But this time the gesture was harsher, his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt with force.
“Mr. Kensington?” I called, alarm spiking through me.
His face, pale before, now turned ashen. His breathing, once steady, came ragged and labored. His eyes, so lively just moments earlier, widened in panic as calm gave way to something far more frightening.
“My… medicine,” he managed, his voice barely a whisper. His free hand pointed weakly toward the jacket draped neatly over the arm of the sofa.
I leapt from my seat, rummaging through the pockets until I found another vial-different from the one he had taken earlier. The letters on the label blurred as I tried to make sense of the dosage.
Joseph was now visibly struggling to breathe, his body pitched forward, one hand gripping the armrest so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“Help!” I cried, fumbling the vial open with trembling fingers. “Please, someone! We need help!”
I placed the pill in his palm, guiding his cold, clammy hand to his mouth.
“Hold on, I’ll call an ambulance,” I said, already reaching for my phone.
But Joseph clutched my wrist, stopping me.
“Christian…” he managed to say. “Call Christian.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.