“Now you see why I couldn’t tell him the truth? A shock like that could trigger another episode. Maybe worse than this one.”
I nodded, suddenly ashamed of the accusations I’d thrown at him the night before. I couldn’t imagine there was so much involved, so many layers behind his actions.
“I had no idea,” I murmured. “I’m sorry for… for assuming the worst.”
He shrugged, but without his usual air of calculated indifference.
“How could you know? I kept you in the dark, like everyone else.”
“Why did he come back early from Valentia?”
Christian sighed, setting the now-empty cup down on the low table.
“The doctor in Ravona confirmed what we already suspected. He needs surgery, but…” His voice faltered slightly. ‘ There are significant risks, because of his age, his overall condition. He came back to set things in order, in case…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
“He wants to formalize the transfer of the winery,” Christian went on after pulling himself together. “To officially pass control to me while he’s still able to oversee the transition.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem,” I said, puzzled. “You already practically run everything, don’t you?”
“The problem is there’s a clause in the family’s ownership structure.” He leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, eyes fixed on the sterile white ceiling. “To take full control, I need to have been married at least six months. An old tradition, supposedly to ensure stability and continuity.”
“And if something happens to him before that?”
The look Christian gave me was full of something I’d never seen in him before-genuine fear.
“Control passes automatically to my cousin Anthony, who’s been married for five years.” His voice dropped. “He’s never cared about the winery, never worked a single day in the vineyards. But he’s married, so in my great- grandfather’s eyes, that makes him ‘stable.””
“What would he do with the winery?”
“Sell it.” The word came out like a death sentence. “Immediately, to the highest bidder. We’ve already had offers from major international conglomerates who would turn Kensington into just another label in their portfolio.”
Now I understood the gravity of the situation. It wasn’t just about Christian losing his inheritance. It was about every life intertwined with the winery.
“It’s not just about me,” he went on, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s families who’ve worked with us for generations. People whose parents and grandparents helped build what we are today. If Anthony sells, hundreds of jobs will be lost. Traditions gone. Knowledge that took decades to develop-thrown away for quick profit.”
The emotion in his voice was undeniable. For the first time, I saw clearly that, for Christian, the winery wasn’t just a business or a status symbol. It was responsibility, legacy, family-in the truest sense of the word.
“I never imagined…” I began, but stopped, not sure what to say.
“That I cared this much?” A tired smile tugged at his lips. “Most people don’t.”
I opened my mouth to say something, anything that could express this new understanding, but was interrupted by the arrival of a middle-aged doctor. His crisp white coat contrasted with the fatigue etched into his features.
“Mr. Kensington?” he called, stepping toward us.
Christian stood at once, his posture tense again.
“Dr. Mendes. How is he?”!
“Mr. Kensington,” Dr. Mendes began, adjusting his glasses, “your grandfather suffered an angina episode, but we managed to stabilize him. The tests confirm the diagnosis made by the specialists in Ravona.”
Christian remained motionless, only the tight line of his jaw betraying the storm of emotions raging inside him.
“The coronary obstruction requires surgical intervention,” the doctor continued. “However, there is no need to act with extreme urgency. We can schedule the surgery within six months, giving us time to strengthen his body and increase the chances of success.”
“And the risks remain the same?” Christian asked. His voice was steady, professional, but I could hear the fragility underneath.
“They are considerable, given his age and condition.” Dr. Mendes paused. “But with proper preparation over the next few months, we can mitigate some of those risks. What’s important now is to keep him calm, free from stress, and strictly following the prescribed medications and care.”
I felt Christian ease slightly beside me. Six months. A window of hope-time to prepare.
“He’s conscious now and asked to see you,” the doctor added. “A short visit, please. Avoid any topics that could agitate him.”
Christian nodded, and the doctor led us through silent corridors to a private room. Joseph was reclined in bed, his usually ruddy face pale, various monitors tracking his heart.
Yet when he saw us, a smile lit his features.
“Ah, the two of you together.” His voice was hoarse, but his eyes sparkled with life. “My favorite sight.”
Christian stepped closer, bending down to kiss his grandfather’s forehead with a tenderness I never imagined he was capable of.
“How are you feeling, Grandpa?”
“Like I danced all night with a twenty-year-old.” Joseph answered with a trace of his old humor. “Exhausted, but satisfied.”
I approached timidly, uncertain of my place in such an intimate moment. Joseph extended his hand toward me, his fingers cold yet surprisingly firm as they clasped mine.
“My dear, I’m so glad you’re here.” His blue eyes, so much like Christian’s, gleamed. “I must have frightened you on your very first day back.”
“What matters is that you’re better now,” I replied softly.
Joseph looked at us both, something melancholy in his expression.
“They told me about the surgery. Six months to prepare, to strengthen this old heart.” His gaze turned resolute. ” Time enough to see you two married, isn’t it?”
A lump formed in my throat. The guilt over our deception pressed on me like a physical weight. I glanced at Christian and saw the same conflict mirrored in his eyes.
“Grandpa…” he began, but a knock at the door cut him off.
Dr. Mendes appeared in the doorway.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we need to discuss some details of your treatment regimen, Mr. Kensington.” He looked at Christian. “In private, if possible.”
Christian hesitated, glancing at me.
“Go,” I encouraged. “I’ll stay with your grandfather.”
When the door closed behind them, a comfortable silence settled over the room. Joseph studied me with that piercing gaze that seemed to see far beyond appearances.
“You know, my dear,” he began, shifting slightly in bed, “I’ve never seen my grandson look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
I looked away, unable to hold his gaze. How could I? Everything between Christian and me was a carefully crafted lie.
“You must be mistaken,” I murmured.
“I have many faults, but my eyes still work perfectly.” His smile was gentle, but there was something shrewd in his expression. “Christian has always been a solitary boy. Ever since he was little.”
I lifted my gaze, curiosity momentarily outweighing my discomfort. Joseph seemed to notice my interest, for his smile widened.
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.