Chapter 340

The morning light filtered through Château Blanc as Bianca Savigny fumbled with gift boxes, letting out occasional frustrated sighs.

"Master Evelyn, don't you think this wrapping looks too plain?"

Evelyn Roland lounged on the leather sofa, rolling a mint between her fingers. She arched a brow. "Should we just buy the entire department store instead?"

"Master!" Bianca's ears flushed pink as she crumpled the ribbon in her hands.

"Enough." Evelyn stood, crushing the mint between her teeth. "Go change."

Sunlight streamed through the windows. The drive from the vineyard to the Roland estate would take at least two hours.

Bianca scampered upstairs like a startled rabbit, the wooden stairs creaking under her hurried steps.

Evelyn glanced at her buzzing phone. The family group chat had exploded. She played Alexander Roland's voice message, his cheerful tone filling the room.

"Returning." Her reply was curt. A faint smile played on her lips as she ascended the staircase.

Meanwhile, at the Valrose mansion, Wendy Valrose paced, checking her watch.

"Why isn't that boy down yet?"

Oscar Valrose flipped through his newspaper without looking up. "Thirty seconds left."

At precisely 9:29:54, Oliver Valrose ambled downstairs, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

"Take these." Wendy pointed at the mountain of gift boxes.

Oliver grabbed an apple and took a bite. "Whatever you think is best."

"Stand straight!" Oscar slammed his newspaper onto the coffee table.

Only after their son straightened up did Wendy anxiously pull him aside. "Should we go with you?"

"He goes alone." Oscar rested a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Proposing on the first visit would be improper."

As the car engine faded, Wendy twisted her fingers. "The Rolands are..."

"If he messes this up, he's disowned." Oscar's eyes gleamed as he stared at the gates.

On the terrace of the Roland estate, Isabella Langley placed a celadon bowl beside her mother.

"Mother, Evelyn just passed the toll station." She scooped a spoonful of glistening bird's nest soup. "You should eat something."

Sophia Roland accepted the bowl but kept her gaze fixed on the estate gates. Morning light streamed through the glass conservatory, casting delicate patterns on her silver-streaked hair.