Later that evening, Amélie sat at the long wooden table in the kitchen, nursing a glass of wine. It was one of their own, a deep red Burgundy with notes of blackberry and earth, the kind of wine that lingered on the tongue and warmed the soul. But tonight, it did little to ease her worries.
Sophie Gagnon, the vineyard's head winemaker and a close family friend, sat across from her, a comforting presence in the otherwise quiet house. Sophie had been with the Beaumont family for as long as Amélie could remember, a second mother after her own had passed. It was Sophie who had taught her the art of winemaking, who had been by her side through every harvest, every setback.
"Your father's in bed already?" Sophie asked, taking a sip of her own wine.
Amélie nodded. "He was tired after our walk. I think the heat got to him."
Sophie's eyes softened. "He's getting older, Amélie. You can't expect him to carry the weight of the vineyard on his shoulders forever."
"I know," Amélie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "But he won't listen to me. He's so stuck in his ways, so determined to keep things exactly as they've always been. He doesn't understand that the world has changed."
Sophie leaned forward, her expression gentle but firm. "Your father is a man of tradition. He's proud of what the Beaumont family has built, and he has every right to be. But you're right, things are different now. You need to find a balance between honoring the past and embracing the future."
Amélie looked down at her glass, her thoughts swirling like the wine within it. "I don't know if I can do that. Every time I try to suggest something new, he shuts me down. It's like he thinks I'm betraying our family."
"You're not betraying anyone," Sophie said softly. "You're trying to save what they built. Your mother would be proud of you for that."
The mention of her mother brought a lump to Amélie's throat. She missed her every day, missed her guidance, her warmth. Claire had always been the one to navigate the business side of things, balancing tradition with innovation. Amélie had tried to follow in her footsteps, but it felt like an impossible task.
"I just want to do the right thing," Amélie whispered.
"You will," Sophie replied, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "You've always been stronger than you think, Amélie. And you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out, together."
Amélie smiled weakly, grateful for Sophie's support, but the weight of responsibility still pressed down on her. She had to find a way to save the vineyard, not just for her father's sake, but for her own. This place was her home, her heritage, and she wasn't ready to let it slip through her fingers.
But as the night deepened and the quiet of the château settled around her, Amélie couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out.
The early morning light filtered through the grand windows of the château, casting a golden glow over the stone walls and the rustic wooden furniture. Amélie was seated at the kitchen table, her laptop open in front of her, going over the financial reports again. No matter how many times she crunched the numbers, the situation remained the same. The vineyard was on the edge of financial collapse.
She sighed heavily, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The bills were mounting, and the vineyard's income was barely enough to keep them afloat. Every season brought new challenges—extreme weather, rising costs, and a saturated wine market. She had tried everything within her power to cut costs and streamline operations, but the vineyard's old methods were not suited for the modern market.
She scrolled down to the emails that had come in overnight. Among the usual suppliers and wine merchants, one message stood out. It was from an American company.
"Midtown Ventures...?" Amélie muttered to herself, clicking on the message.
As the email loaded, she skimmed over the text. Her eyes widened as she read:
"Dear Mademoiselle Beaumont,
We have been following the progress of your family's esteemed vineyard for some time and are deeply interested in discussing a business opportunity that we believe could be highly beneficial to both parties. We would like to schedule a meeting to discuss the acquisition of Beaumont Vineyards. Midtown Ventures is committed to preserving the legacy of your brand while also bringing the estate into the future with new investment. We look forward to hearing from you soon."
Amélie stared at the screen in disbelief. An acquisition? From a New York-based corporation? She had heard of Midtown Ventures—they had made a name for themselves buying up struggling vineyards and transforming them into commercial powerhouses. But their reputation wasn't one she admired. They were known for mass-producing wine on a large scale, stripping away the authenticity and heritage of the estates they purchased.
She felt her stomach twist with unease. The idea of selling her family's vineyard to a soulless corporation went against everything she stood for. But at the same time, the offer was tempting. With the kind of money and resources Midtown Ventures could provide, the vineyard's financial troubles would be over in an instant. They could pay off their debts, upgrade their equipment, and expand production. Maybe even save the business.
But at what cost?
Amélie leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. She couldn't make this decision alone. Her father would never approve—he would see it as a betrayal of everything the Beaumonts had worked for. But there was no denying that without some kind of change, the vineyard was doomed.
Just as she was considering closing the email and forgetting it existed, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced down at the screen to see a familiar number flashing across it—her cousin, Étienne.