The Night Before the Winemaking Contest, Floating Comments Exposed His Plan Chapter 03

The Night Before the Winemaking Contest, Floating Comments Exposed His Plan Chapter 03

A faded chapel prayer card came loose with the broken branches and spiraled to the ground.

I stopped.

That year, rain hammered Briarvale for two straight months. The flood tore the entire vineyard hillside apart.

I sat beside the golden muscadine vine for three days straight, barely sleeping.

“I couldn’t save it. I’ve made you wait another year.”

Wesley took my hand.

“The championship doesn’t matter, Laurel. You’re the one I’ve always loved.”

He wanted to prove it.

He lined the vineyard with smudge pots against the cold. Then he hiked barefoot up the mountain in the freezing rain.

He stayed on his knees in Harvest Chapel all night to beg for a blessing of protection over me.

He hung the prayer card from a branch. The withered seedling sprouted again.

I never once doubted that he loved me.

But I forgot that hearts change. That love spoken in earnest can still rot.

I stepped forward and walked right over the prayer card.

When I got home, Mallory was waiting.

“Laurel, finally. You came to your senses.”

She smiled like a weight had been lifted.

“You should’ve done this years ago. You were never going to be the Champion Vintner. There was no point waiting around for Wesley.”

I pulled my hand free.

Wesley was inside.

As I passed him, his hand closed around my wrist. His face was dark.

“Did you actually cut it down?”

I looked at him, and something between a laugh and disgust rose in my throat.

He was the one who fell out of love.

And he was the one standing here looking betrayed.

“Yeah. Think of it as a gift for you and Camille.”

“A belated wedding present.”

His expression shifted.

“You know.”

I didn’t answer.

He opened his mouth.

A glass shattered behind him.

Camille stood there staring at us, her eyes filling with tears.

Wesley let go of me instantly and went to her.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“Wesley, I’ve always been the one who doesn’t belong here. Maybe I should just go.”

Wesley frowned.

“Don’t say that.”

She dropped her gaze, and the tears slid down one after another.

“But Laurel waited for you for eleven years. She destroyed her own vine just to bring you back.”

“Let’s go to the courthouse tomorrow, Wesley. Sign the divorce papers. I want you to go back to her.”

Something in Wesley’s face went cold.

He turned to me like he’d finally figured it out.

“So that’s what this was about.”

Behind me, my mother stormed out and slammed her hand on the kitchen island.

“You’re not home five minutes and you’re already starting something! Apologize to Camille. Now.”

My brother planted himself in front of Camille like a shield.

“She’s always had your back, and this is what you do?”

I looked at them. One face. Then another.

Every single one of them standing against me.

Camille rushed forward and reached for my hand.

“Laurel, don’t blame them. They didn’t mean it…”

I yanked my arm out of reach.

She lunged for me, lost her footing, and stumbled backward.

“Camille!”

They swarmed her.

My mother caught her. My brother and Mallory flanked her on either side.

Wesley helped her up and tilted her wrist to check the scrape.

“We’re going to urgent care.”

As he passed me, he stopped just long enough to look at me. The disappointment in his eyes didn’t even try to hide.

“I won’t let anyone hurt Camille. Not even you, Laurel.”

“Don’t push me. You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

Then he walked out without looking back.

My mother shot me one last glare.

They all followed him out.

The house went dead quiet.

My phone buzzed. A message notification.

[Laurel, Wesley only said those things because he was so worried about me. Please don’t hold it against him.]

I opened Camille’s profile. Her latest post was right there.

In the photo, Wesley was tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Mallory was helping her blow out candles. My mother held a pot of homemade soup. My brother grinned behind a camera.

The caption: [Thank you all for celebrating my birthday with me.]

I looked at the date, and my hands started to shake.

Last Friday. I’d stayed in the vineyard all night protecting the vines from frost. Got caught in the rain. My fever hit 102, and I could barely see straight.

I called Wesley. He said he was out of town with Mallory, meeting wine merchants.

I texted my brother. He said Mom’s arthritis was flaring up and he couldn’t leave her.

I waited all night. Nobody came.

They were all at Camille’s birthday party.

My phone rang again.

The championship organizers.

“Laurel, we heard you cut down the golden muscadine vine. Do you want us to withdraw your entry?”

I was quiet for a beat. Then I almost laughed.

“No. I’m still competing.”

The comments exploded.

[What is she doing??]

[Wait… did everyone forget?]

[Every Champion Vintner has always chosen to marry the magnate.]

[But the ACTUAL rule is that the Champion Vintner gets to make one demand the Ashford family can’t refuse.]

[The vine is gone. What’s she going to compete with?]