I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 02

I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 02

On the first day Savannah moved into the estate, she turned the vertical tasting room Ava had so carefully maintained into her personal walk-in closet. The sample bottles, arranged by batch, year, and flavor profile, were swept into storage.

The next day, she announced she was going to “improve the children’s diet.”

“Sweethearts, you can’t keep drinking those strange sodas,” Savannah said, her voice cloyingly sweet as she took several bottles of Ava’s specially blended, non-alcoholic bourbon-flavored soda from the refrigerator. “True Montgomery children deserve the very best.”

With a flourish, she poured the bottles down the sink. The deep amber liquid, with its complex aroma of vanilla, caramel, and oak that Ava had carefully crafted, vanished down the drain. Ava had developed the sodas to protect her children’s developing palates from the palate-dulling effects of high-sugar commercial drinks.

Daisy and Beau burst into cheers.

“That’s amazing, Aunt Savannah! I was so sick of Mom’s ‘healthy drinks’!” Daisy snatched an ice-cold can of Coke from Savannah and took a long, satisfied drink.

Beau smiled, too. “Thanks, Savannah. Mom never gets that we’d be made fun of at school.”

Ava stood in the kitchen doorway, watching it all unfold. She felt nothing, as if she were watching a play that had nothing to do with her.

Soon, such scenes became routine.

At family dinners, Savannah naturally took the hostess’s seat to Clayton’s right. Dressed in expensive silk, she tenderly cut steak for the children while Clayton poured her champagne, his eyes full of an indulgence Ava had never known.

Ava was seated at the far end of the long table, wedged between distant relatives and business partners, an irrelevant guest.

“I do like this bourbon,” a visiting whiskey critic said, raising his glass to Savannah. “The rye content must be quite high to create such a sweet, mellow mouthfeel.”

Savannah swirled her glass. “Yes,” she said with an elegant smile. “Rye is the soul of Kentucky.”

Ava lowered her head and cut into the food on her plate. In that bourbon’s mash bill, the rye content was less than ten percent. The sweetness came from the corn, which made up seventy-five percent of the grain. If she had made such a basic mistake, Clayton’s glare would have cut her to the bone.

But now, Clayton only looked at Savannah with adoration. “Savannah’s palate is always so unique,” he said to the critic with a smile.

Murmurs rippled around the table, just loud enough for Ava to hear.

“It seems Mr. Montgomery has truly found his soul mate.”

“Poor Ava. She created all this, but now she looks like an outsider.”

Ava listened, her heart a placid lake. She had already tasted the bitterness of giving her heart to the wrong person. She wouldn’t waste another ounce of pain on it.

Until that night, when Clayton pushed open the door to her guest room.

Perhaps realizing he had been neglecting her, his tone was softer. “That’s enough, Ava. Starting tomorrow, you’ll take over the Riverbank Select series again.”

He paused, then took a document from his pocket as if bestowing a great favor.

“As compensation, I’ll rename the best-selling 1882 Vintage as the Ava & Montgomery co-branded edition. Are you satisfied now?”

Using her own creation to “compensate” her.

Ava looked at the document as if it were the most absurd joke in the world. In her previous life, she would have been overjoyed.

Now, she found it unbearably ironic.

She picked up a freshly poured glass of bourbon from the table—her own work. She swirled it, inhaled its aroma, then looked him straight in the eye.

“I’m not interested anymore.”

Clayton froze, astonishment flashing in his eyes before it was replaced by offense. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” A cold smile touched Ava’s lips. “Your whiskey, your brand, your compensation… all of it.”

A sense of losing control surged through Clayton. He was used to her compliance, her quiet longing. He had never expected such a complete refusal.

He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist, trying to force the document into her hand. “Take it!”

There was a sharp clink.

In the struggle, the glass slipped from her hand. Dark liquor splashed across his expensive suit, and the crystal shattered on the floor.

The air in the room froze.

Clayton stared at her calm, almost cold profile, a knot tightening in his chest. Finally, he just flung her hand away and strode out of the room.

Ava didn’t look at him. She simply crouched down to clean up the broken glass.

Suddenly, the director of operations shouted from outside.

“Mr. Montgomery! Ma’am! Something’s happened! Beau and Daisy are in the aging cellar. It looks like… it looks like they’ve broken a barrel!”

Ava’s heart seized, and she rushed out of the room.

When she arrived at Aging Cellar A-7, the air thick with the smell of alcohol, the children were huddled in a corner, trembling. A precious barrel marked “30 Years” lay on its side. The deep amber spirit soaked into the old stone floor, hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of angel’s share greedily absorbed by the earth.

Clayton was already there. His custom leather shoes stood in a puddle of costly liquor, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. His eyes were bloodshot, like an enraged beast.

When he saw her, he growled through clenched teeth.

“Ava! No matter how angry you are, you shouldn’t have dragged the children into this!”

Ava stopped short. “What are you talking about?”

When Daisy saw Ava, she didn’t run to her for comfort. Instead, she pointed a trembling finger, her chest heaving with rage. “It was you! You said you’d bring us here for a treasure hunt! You said if we found the distillery’s most valuable barrel, you’d agree to kick Aunt Savannah out!”

Ava stared at her. “What treasure hunt?”

“You’re still lying!” Daisy cried. “Beau can prove it! You’ve never liked us being close to Aunt Savannah!”

All eyes turned to Beau.

Beau’s lips moved, but no sound came out. He was silent for a moment, avoiding Ava’s gaze. Finally, he nodded. “…Yes. Mom did say that.”

The air went still.

Clayton looked at Ava with cold disgust, as if staring at a lunatic.

Ava pressed her lips into a thin line. “I didn’t.”

“Enough!” Clayton lunged forward, grabbing Ava’s wrist. His strength was shocking, his grip like a vise.

Ava flinched from the icy rage in his eyes.

“Ava, is your jealousy of Savannah so consuming that you’d destroy a thirty-year-old barrel and force your own children to lie?”

“I said I didn’t—”

“Still stubborn!” Clayton tightened his grip, the pain so sharp it stole her breath.

He dragged her toward an abandoned corner deep inside the cellar, where a heavy iron door stood. It was an old icehouse from the last century. Even in summer, the temperature inside stayed near freezing.

He yanked open the door and threw Ava inside.

Ava slipped on the damp concrete, falling hard. A bone-deep chill pierced her thin clothes, stabbing into her skin.

She struggled to get up, but Clayton stood in the doorway, his face livid, his eyes devoid of warmth.

“Let her stay in there and cool off,” he ordered the security guards who had rushed over.

The heavy iron door slammed shut, the sound of the bolt sliding home echoing in the small space.

Darkness and cold swallowed her.

She could hear the workers whispering outside.

“Just because of jealousy, she tried to destroy that precious whiskey and even incited her own children.”

“I never would have thought Mrs. Ava, who looks so gentle, could be so vicious.”

“Compared to her, Miss Savannah is practically an angel…”

Not one person defended her. Not one person tried to open the door.

Ava curled up on the floor. Her cashmere cardigan was soon soaked through with icy water, becoming as heavy as lead. Her body shook uncontrollably, her teeth chattering, her lips turning purple. Time crawled by. Her consciousness began to blur, her senses numbing in the extreme cold.

She didn’t know how long it had been. An hour? Two? Just when she felt she was about to freeze solid, her body began to convulse.

Before the darkness swallowed her completely, she thought she heard the lock turn.

An old employee who had worked at the distillery for thirty years had taken advantage of the distraction, secretly opened the door, and was now trying to drag her out.

“Mr. Montgomery! Any longer and she’ll die!” the old man’s voice was shaking.

But Clayton only glanced coldly at Ava, who lay limp and nearly unconscious on the ground. He said nothing. He simply bent down, picked up his sobbing daughter, took his son’s hand, and left without a backward glance.

Ava was left curled on the cold concrete, her consciousness fading.

The last thing she saw before the darkness came was Clayton’s back as he turned and locked that heavy iron door.