Chapter 3

Arthur's temper grew more volatile with each passing day.

Faced with the terror of possible amputation, and Sienna's persistent avoidance of him for days on end, he had completely regressed into an irritable, overgrown infant.

"Is this soup even fit for human consumption?! Get out! Everyone, get out!"

The sound of shattering porcelain rang out from the hospital room.

I pushed the door open and saw Mrs. Bennett scrambling to dodge a flying meal tray, her silk scarf splattered with tomato soup.

"Arthur, calm down!" Mrs. Bennett dabbed at her tears, looking wronged.

"I don't need sympathy! I need my legs to heal! I need to get back to the winery!" Arthur roared hysterically.

I walked over and had a nurse come in to clean up the mess on the floor. Then I pulled a thick document from my bag and placed it in front of Arthur.

"What is this?" Arthur glared at me, his eyes bloodshot.

"A power of attorney for the winery," I said flatly. "The doctor says you'll need at least six months to recover. During that time, the winery's operations and finances can't just grind to a halt. Sign it, and I'll take care of everything while you focus on getting better."

Arthur stared hard at the document, a flicker of suspicion crossing his eyes. "You're trying to seize control?"

"Seize control?" I let out a light laugh, my eyes feigning innocence. "Arthur, the winery was left to me by my father in the first place. I'm simply reclaiming the management rights that were always mine. If you're unwilling, then next month's bank loans for the winery—and your parents' hundred-thousand-dollar monthly allowance—might just have to stop."

The moment Mrs. Bennett heard "allowance might stop," she panicked. She snatched the pen from Arthur's hand and forced it back into his grip. "Son! Camille's right. Look at the state you're in—how could you possibly manage the winery right now? Just sign it!"

Arthur stared at his mother in disbelief. Just days ago, she had accused me of failing to protect him. Now, for the sake of a hundred thousand dollars, she didn't hesitate to take my side.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur signed his name on the document, humiliation written across his face.

The moment I had the power of attorney in hand, I didn't linger at the hospital any longer.

By day, I played the perfect wife, devotedly caring for her disabled husband at the hospital. By night, I returned to the winery, bringing along a lawyer and the CFO to conduct a thorough audit of Arthur's finances over the past three years.

Just as I'd suspected, the books were an absolute disaster.

Over the past year, under the pretext of "importing new equipment from France," Arthur had siphoned off more than two million dollars.

And every last cent of it had flowed into an overseas account, ultimately used to purchase a luxury condo in Beverly Hills. The deed listed Sienna's name as the owner.

Staring at the ironclad evidence in the bank statements, I leaned back in my chair and poured myself a glass of top-tier Cabernet Sauvignon.

Reporting this to the police now would only force him to cough up the money—far too lenient a punishment for him.

Late that night, I sat alone in my office, reviewing the surveillance footage on my phone.

It was from a hidden camera I'd installed in the corner of the hospital room a few days earlier, while Sienna was accompanying Arthur to his checkup.

In the footage, Arthur was hunched beneath his blankets, whispering into his phone.

"Sienna, listen to me. That bitch Camille froze my personal accounts. But I've still got one last card to play."

"There's a safe in the winery's basement. Inside is a 'top-secret vintage formula' that Camille's father left behind. If we can get our hands on that formula and sell it to Barton Winery, we'll pull in at least five million dollars!"

"But… how am I supposed to get it?" Sienna's hesitant voice came through on the other end.

"The password is my birthday. Tomorrow, Camille's heading to San Francisco for a meeting—she won't be at the winery all night. Use the spare key I gave you to get in. Once we have the formula, we can leave that bitch behind and be together forever."

I watched Arthur's smug, self-satisfied face on the screen, and the corner of my mouth slowly curled into a cold smile.

A top-secret vintage formula?

What a touching little plan. Too bad he had no idea that what sat inside that safe was a "death poison" I had personally concocted with my own hands.

I switched off the surveillance feed and drained the glass of wine in one go.