The following day arrived with a bitter chill in the air, the wind biting as it whipped through the vines. Amélie waited in the drawing room, her mind racing through the possibilities of what Jack could have uncovered. She didn't trust him, but she knew she couldn't ignore him either.
Jack arrived promptly, his presence commanding as always. He stepped into the room, and the air seemed to shift. Without wasting time, he set a folder on the table between them, his eyes locked on hers.
"Amélie," he began, his voice measured, "I've done more research on your financial situation. You're on the brink of bankruptcy. The vineyard isn't just struggling—it's sinking."
Amélie's breath hitched, though she tried to maintain her composure. "I'm aware of the vineyard's challenges, Mr. Reynolds."
"No, you're not," Jack countered, flipping open the folder. "The bank is about to call in your debts. They've been patient, but that patience is running out. If you don't do something soon, they'll take the vineyard from you. You won't have a say in what happens next."
His words hit her like a blow. She knew things were bad, but she hadn't realized they were this close to disaster. The room felt too small, the walls closing in around her as the reality of her situation settled in.
Jack watched her closely, his expression softening slightly. "I'm not here to gloat, Amélie. I'm offering you a way out. You're proud of this place—I get it. But pride isn't going to save it. You have a chance to turn things around, to keep the Beaumont name alive. Don't let stubbornness destroy everything."
Amélie stared at the documents, her mind reeling. Her pride was exactly what had kept her from seriously considering Jack's offer before. But now, faced with the cold, hard truth, she realized that pride might cost her everything.
"I need time to think," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jack nodded, his demeanor respectful, though his eyes held a hint of urgency. "Of course. But don't take too long. The clock is ticking."
With that, he stood, his presence still looming even as he left the room. Amélie remained seated, her eyes fixed on the folder in front of her. Everything she had worked for, everything her father had built, was hanging by a thread.
She reached for the documents, her hands trembling as she flipped through the pages. The numbers were damning—debts, interest, unpaid taxes. The vineyard was drowning, and unless she acted soon, there would be nothing left to save.
But selling to Jack felt like a betrayal. Could she trust him to preserve the vineyard's soul, or would he transform it into something unrecognizable, devoid of the passion and history that defined it?
Amélie's thoughts swirled in a chaotic storm, the weight of her father's legacy pressing down on her. She had to make a decision soon—one that would determine the future of the vineyard, and her own path forward.
She stood, walking to the window and gazing out at the vines, the lifeblood of her family. Her father's voice echoed in her mind, reminding her of the values he had instilled in her—the importance of tradition, of honoring the land. But now, those values felt like chains, binding her to a past that no longer seemed sustainable.
A tear slipped down her cheek as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the vineyard. It was beautiful, yes—but beauty wouldn't save it.
The question remained: what would?