Chapter 270

Chapter 270:
Millie gazed at Babette, then turned to Brandon and Vivian.
She remembered the trips she had taken with Brandon, especially that winter in Vascuosia, where locals revered their wine culture. She had studied, absorbed, and learned.
Just one sip was enough.
“So,” she asked softly, “did I win?”
Babette said nothing, only stared at her.
“Is this how you won him?” she asked, her voice brittle. “Back then?” Millie lowered her gaze. “No,” she said gently.
That “victory” had come at a cost—her health, and her child.
It had been a desperate gamble on what little humanity Egbert had left. The wine in her glass swirled like blood. Just like the blood that had soaked the floor the day she lost her baby.
The cold that day had been unbearable.
“No?” Babette’s disbelief rose. Her chest heaved with emotion. “In his early days, he was cruel—everyone knew it. He went through business deals and walked away like they were games. What made you different? What did you do, Millie? What did you give him?”
Millie looked at her calmly, her grip steady on the glass. “You said it yourself, Babette. It wasn’t me. It was the Watson Group’s technical breakthrough that changed everything.”
Babette froze. Discover more novels at.net
The words she had used to discredit Millie had now been turned back on her. And in doing so, they revealed that Babette had believed Millie was at the heart of it all without even realizing it.
Red-eyed, Babette stared at her in silence. Millie didn’t return the gaze.
“So,” she asked quietly, “what’s the verdict? Did I win? If so, then the Bennett family’s—”
“You didn’t win!” Babette suddenly screamed. Her voice sliced through the hum of the crowd, drawing eyes.
“Yes, that glass is ‘Miss’—but so what?” Her laugh was sharp, almost manic. “The Bennett family is gone, Millie. It’s nothing now. What remains now is just a department under the…”
“Watson Group’s thumb. Your father is dead. Even if you picked the right wine, what does it—”
Before Babette could finish, Millie calmly lifted the glass and poured the ruby liquid over her.
The wine streamed down Babette’s cheek, staining her skin, soaking her gown.
The deep red clung like blood to her designer dress. Millie stood still, the empty glass still in her hand.
Babette’s shriek sliced through the noise, snapping every head in her direction. All eyes landed on the star of the night—now drenched, crimson wine soaking her dress and dripping onto the marble floor.
Brandon came striding in from the far side, his pace quickening when he saw the commotion.
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