Chapter 214

"Miss Valdemar is still shaken. Stay with her." I stood by the hospital room door, fingertips lightly tapping the wall. "There are matters at the winery that need my attention."

Time was running out. The backup plan would only make things more rushed.

Stepping out of the hospital, I dialed Blake Sherwood's number.

A drunken voice slurred through the phone: "Termination, right? Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Not a word about what happened on set."

The corner of my lips curved up. At least this director knew his place.

"It's me. Evelyn Roland."

The sound of a bottle clattering to the floor echoed through the line. Blake's voice instantly sobered. "M-Miss Roland?"

"Hmm."

"I swear, I won’t breathe a word about the incident!" His voice trembled.

"That’s not why I called." I cut straight to the point. "I’ve seen your documentary work. You know how to tell a story. Stop wasting your talent on those trashy dramas. Come film a documentary for my winery."

"Same pay as before. Bonuses if it performs well."

Blake stammered in excitement. "Ms. Roland! I won’t let you down!"

Inside the Valentine family villa.

Fiona Valentine huddled in the corner of her bedroom. She hadn’t dared to return to school since her cousin’s accident. Yet her obsession with Sebastian Valdemar only grew wilder.

He saved her. That meant he loved her!

Her phone suddenly rang.

"Fiona, it’s Isabella." A gentle voice floated through the line. "You haven’t been to school in days. I’ve been worried."

Fiona burst into tears.

Isabella sighed. "It’s all Evelyn Roland’s fault. Did you know? Château Laurent is co-managed by her and Sebastian."

"They’re... close."

The call ended. Fiona clenched her phone, nails digging deep into her palms.

Destroy the winery, and she’d destroy them both.

Filming day.

I led Blake through the winery grounds. The workers initially shied away from the cameras—until they realized the documentary was about them.

These seasoned employees, who’d never been on screen before, lit up with excitement. Under the lens, their labor took on a quiet dignity.

Watching the rough cut, I nodded in approval.

I hadn’t misjudged him.