Charlotte was ecstatic—an overwhelming rush of triumph surged through her.
At long last, the legendary Rosewood Winemaker, a name revered for its unparalleled vintages, would be hers.
She was just beginning to savour her long-awaited victory when her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
"I know you've been surveilling your brother and attempting to usurp the Winemaker by exposing his transgressions and tarnishing his name.
Meet me at 3 p.m. sharp.
Elle Restaurant."
Charlotte froze, her fingers tightening around the phone.
"What the actual hell... Why do things like this always happen when I'm finally—finally—happy? Why? Why is the universe never on my side?"
Without alerting anyone in the mansion, she slipped away, her heart pounding with dread and fury.
She arrived at Elle Restaurant at 3:05 p.m.
The place was unnervingly silent—eerily vacant. No guests, no staff, not even a flicker of movement. Just... stillness.
Then came a voice from behind.
She turned.
Sebastian Ellington.
Her breath hitched. Of all people—him? Why would he summon her like this? Why would he be behind that threatening text?
"Miss Charlotte Rosewood," he greeted her, voice rich and poised. "I assume I don't need to reintroduce myself. We crossed paths at the banquet—you recall?"
"You... you were the one who sent that message?" she asked, stunned. "You blackmailed me into coming here?"
"Yes," he said coolly. "Now sit. We need to talk. And I promise, you'll want to hear this."
Charlotte hesitated, then sank into the seat across from him.
"There's something I must confess," he began, his tone unsettlingly casual. "It may sound sudden—maybe even absurd—but please, don't panic."
"…Go on," Charlotte muttered, guarded.
"I'm in love with you," he said bluntly. "Have been... for quite some time. That's why I hired someone to observe you. That's how I learned of your plan to discredit your brother and claim the Winemaker for yourself."
Charlotte recoiled. "Are you out of your mind?! We've barely spoken for more than an hour, and we've only met—what—twice?! And you love me?! What is this—some delusional fairytale about love at first sight?"
He smirked, undeterred.
"Yes. It is love at first sight," he admitted. "But tell me something... Do you truly believe those encounters were coincidental?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Wait... that banquet... Was that you?" Her voice faltered. "I thought it was my siblings trying to make me reconcile with Vincent."
Sebastian chuckled darkly.
"Do you seriously believe your siblings have the influence to attend a banquet of that calibre? Sure, they're wealthy, but wealth alone doesn't grant access to that world. That banquet was curated—and the invitation? That came from me. With one stipulation: that they bring you along."
"And as for Vincent," he added, "I made the mistake of allowing them to invite a guest of their choosing. That's on me."
Charlotte stared at him, trying to process the weight of his manipulations.
"Let me make myself very clear," she said, her voice steely. "I do not love you. I never have, and I never will. I don't want you stalking me, watching me, or even speaking to me again."
Sebastian didn't flinch.
"I'll change that," he said softly.
She raised an eyebrow. "And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?"
"By helping you," he said. "Let me assist you in securing the Winemaker. And if, after that, you still want nothing to do with me—I'll disappear. No questions, no begging. I promise."
She paused, weighing his words.
"You swear you'll walk away if I ask you to?"
"I give you my word."
"Fine," Charlotte said at last, her tone icy but composed. "We're partners in crime, then. Nothing more. Exchange numbers."
He smiled. "Gladly. I've waited far too long to have the number of my dream girl."
Charlotte handed over her number and turned on her heel, leaving as swiftly as she had arrived.
Her mind raced with disbelief.
Sebastian Ellington… confessed his love to me.
And now... he was her ally.
Or her most dangerous mistake.
___. ___