After the breakup, my ex mocked me and called me a coward scavenging for scraps, then lured me to her new lover's winery just to humiliate me in front of everyone. Later, she accidentally shattered a bottle of priceless red wine and tried to pin the blame on me.

What she didn't know was… the winery belonged to my family.

On my birthday, I spent hours decorating a restaurant, ready to propose to Dolly Porter… until I happened to open a social feed.

There, in a freshly posted video, my girlfriend was on stage in a nearly transparent skirt, wrapped around Steven Chase as they danced provocatively. A matching pair of couple rings gleamed on their fingers.

I stared at the screen for a long time, my chest tightening with a cocktail of emotions.

Just a week ago, I had collapsed from exhaustion while caring for her through a fever. The moment she recovered, she rushed to attend a concert with Steven. When I tried to stop her, she abandoned me—burning with fever, left alone in the pouring rain—while she drove off into the night and never came back.

When I confronted her, she scoffed that I didn't even have a "real job," only ever tinkered with "worthless antiques," and shamelessly claimed she was doing it all to introduce me to something "respectable." Since then, we had been given each other the cold shoulder.

She had no idea who I truly was—the only craftsman alive still mastering the ancient art of a special joinery. Collectors from all over the world offered me fortunes to come out of seclusion. I was never the freeloader she branded me to be.

That day was my birthday, the first time she had ever reached out to reconcile. I had even decided to seize the chance—not just to propose, but to finally reveal my true identity.

But after waiting five long hours, all I received was her sultry dance video.

I stared at the dozens of missed calls flashing on my phone, and suddenly, the weight lifted. Quietly, I packed up the untouched cake, took it home, showered, and sank into sleep.

The next morning, Dolly returned. Tossing her coat onto the sofa, she spoke with barely concealed excitement.

"Good news! Remember the job I asked Steven to find for you? He finally came through. Aren't you happy?"

The same as always. Not a single word of explanation.

The last trace of hope in me crumbled. I forced a faint smile. "Mm. Yeah."

I walked past her toward the dining table, intending to put away the antique ring I had once chosen for her. But she snatched it first, turned it in her fingers, and sneered.

"Where'd you dig up this piece of junk? Can't you stop wasting time on garbage and learn to be ambitious, like Steven?"

Deliberately, she raised her hand, showing off the dazzling diamond ring on her finger, her face twisted with disdain.

I ignored her. Taking the copper turquoise-inlaid ring from her hand, I carefully placed it back into its box. She had no idea that what she mocked as "trash" was a rare ancient dynasty piece I had bought from a renowned collector—for a price worth more than two hundred times her diamond ring.

Maybe we had never belonged to the same world. And if so, what reason did I have to keep clinging to a love drained of all expectation?

Under her barrage of mockery, I finally said the words.

"Let's break up."

Dolly blinked in surprise, then shrieked, "You? Break up with me? Who do you think you are? Even your job came from me! I've had enough. If you want to break up, fine—take your pile of junk and get out of my life!"

With a furious sweep of her arm, she sent everything on the table crashing to the floor before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

The next day, my assistant, Alex Volton, called.

"Mr. Mercer, the International Cultural Relics Restoration Conference is about to begin. They've contacted me repeatedly, hoping you'll attend and offer your expertise."

Last time, I had skipped the conference for Dolly's birthday. This time, I wasn't going to miss it.

After agreeing, I began sorting my collection and prepared to send my late mother's necklace to the exhibition as well—only to remember that Dolly had borrowed it under the pretense of "trying it on" and had never returned it.

I opened her contact to send a message, but before I could type, a new one popped up from her.

It was a plea for help, followed by a location pin.

Mallo Winery? My sister's winery?

I rushed there immediately and rang the bell. After a long wait, the door finally swung open.

Steven stood there, smiling.

"Twenty-three minutes. Dolly, you were right. Not even half an hour, and he came running!"

Laughter erupted inside.

Dolly sat comfortably on the sofa, red nails covering her smirk. Her laughter dripped with contempt.

"Talk big about breaking up, yet here you are, rushing over like a dog wagging its tail. Some things never change."

She turned to the others.

"You lost the bet. Pay up."

And in that instant, I realized—her cry for help was nothing but another trap set solely to humiliate me.

I gave a self-deprecating smile, though deep down I felt nothing. Truth be told, I had only come here for my mother's necklace.

But why were they here?

Inside, I let my gaze wander over the winery's interior design and furnishings without revealing my thoughts. When my eyes landed on the antique mural hanging on the wall, I finally had my answer.

This was indeed the winery my sister had purchased last year. That very painting was the housewarming gift I had given her. I even remembered how the workers chipped a corner while hanging it, and I'd promised to restore it for her someday. But then she went abroad, and I hadn't set foot here since.

Lost in thought, I was jolted back by the cutting laughter of the men around Dolly.

"Look at this bumpkin's eyes. I bet he's never stepped into a place this fancy in his life!"

"Just look at him, gawking like a fool. Dolly, it must have been torture for you dating this guy. A gorgeous lady wasted on a useless fool!"

I turned, studying the three men in head-to-toe designer brands who clustered near her. Suddenly, I recalled my sister mentioning two days ago that she would be hosting a party at the winery and had invited me to come. The event was today.

Were these people her friends?

While I mulled it over, Steven strolled up, his face stretched into a false smile.

"A guest is a guest. He came all this way. No need to be harsh."

No sooner had he spoken than someone chimed in eagerly, flattering him.

"Spoken like a true gentleman, Steven. Hey, why are you still standing there? Take your shoes off before you dirty Steven's winery!"

I froze mid-step and turned to Steven.

"This is your winery?"

Dolly snorted.

"Whose else would it be? Yours? With those worthless trinkets you mess around with, you'll never even dream of stepping into a place this high-class."

I ignored her. In my heart, I was already certain—they weren't my sister's guests.

With that thought, I sat myself down on the plush sofa, curious to see what game they were playing.

"Wow, the bumpkin really made himself at home. Thinks this place is his now?" someone sneered.

Steven brushed it off with practiced magnanimity.

"Come now, it's rare for Justin to visit. Don't make it hard for him. There's fruit on the table—help yourselves."

Everyone's eyes shifted toward the table, where a lacquer plate brimmed with golden cherries. They reached eagerly, savoring the fruit.

I, however, sat frozen.

"What's wrong, Justin? Don't tell me you've never seen these before?"

Dolly curled her lip in disdain. "Of course not. Someone like him has never tasted cherries that cost five hundred a kilogram."

Their laughter rang out, mocking me for being unsophisticated. But it wasn't the fruit that shocked me—it was the plate.

The lacquer plate looked far too familiar. If I wasn't mistaken, it was an antique lacquerware my sister had spent 600,000 dollars on at Christie's just last month.

But such antique lacquer couldn't be exposed to air. It was always coated in a thick protective shell.

Now, stripped bare, the plate was ruined.

My eyes scanned the room until they landed on the wastebasket by my feet. Inside lay the discarded lacquer coating, peeled away by human hands.

Meanwhile, the culprits jeered on.

"Ha! Look, he's so shocked he can't even move."

"Just proves he's a clueless bumpkin. That face—priceless!"

I straightened, nodding solemnly. "Shocked, yes. That plate happens to be a 600,000 dollar antique."

"What? 600,000 dollars? For that plate?"

"Seriously? Is he making this up?"

Steven faltered for a split second before waving his hand with forced nonchalance.

"Pfft, just a little trinket."

The flattery returned instantly.

"As expected of Steven, so generous!"

"Only someone like him would use a 600,000 dollar antique plate for fruit."

Dolly pressed herself against his chest, her face glowing with adoration.

"Steven, you're amazing. Not like some people, who only know how to show off with words."

Basking in her praise, Steven puffed himself up. "The only thing that matters is everyone's happy."

I rolled my eyes inwardly. If my sister found out, I couldn't imagine her reaction.

Once the cherries were gone, they strolled around the estate, marveling at its luxury. I trailed closely behind, not out of interest but out of fear—fear that they'd ruin something else.

And, as fate would have it, what I feared most was exactly what happened next.

Staring at the ornate carved door ahead, Dolly asked curiously, "What's this place?"

Her voice caught the others' attention. When they learned it was the wine cellar, excitement rippled through the group, and they clamored to go inside.

My heart tightened. That cellar held my sister's collection—rare wines she'd acquired from auctions all over the world. Alarmed, I stepped forward to stop them.

But Steven was already keying in the code. With a soft click, the heavy door swung open.

Three towering walls of wine came into view, arranged meticulously by vintage. Beside them, a marble tasting counter gleamed, lined with crystal decanters and fine wine glasses.

"Damn, Steven, you're too modest. You called this 'not big'? This cellar is massive!"

"Look at all these bottles. Every single one must cost a fortune!"

"Of course! Would Steven stock cheap wine? Think we'll be lucky enough to taste one?"

Dolly's eyes glittered with delight.

"Steven, you're incredible. So many rare wines… not like some people, who only know how to hoard junk."

Her sneer flicked toward me at the back of the group.

Steven waved his hand with practiced ease. "This is only part of my collection. Feel free to look around. But be careful. Don't drop anything."

My expression darkened.

Aside from my sister, I was the only one who knew that code. How did he?

Had I been wrong? Was Steven truly a close friend of hers—trusted enough to be lent the estate?

I pulled out my phone, typing a quick message to my sister.

At that moment, Dolly lifted a bottle from the rack.

"Steven, this label looks a little yellowed. Is it expensive?"

Steven glanced at it, paused, then replied casually, "Not really. That one's just a few thousand."

I caught sight of the bottle in her hand and nearly bit my tongue in shock.

Few thousand, my ass.

That was the collector's vintage my sister had spent five million on at an auction last year.

Dolly weighed the bottle carelessly, pouting. "Looks like it's almost expired. Why don't we just toss it later?"

"There are staff who maintain everything here," Steven reassured her. "No need to trouble yourself."

I barely heard them, my attention locked on her reckless hands. She tossed the bottle lightly from palm to palm, utterly oblivious.

I couldn't hold back anymore.

"Put the bottle down. That wine is priceless. There are only three left in the world."

The words froze everyone in place.

Steven's smile faltered.

"Well, well. Didn't think you knew anything about wine, Justin."

Dolly clicked her tongue impatiently. "Steven's trying to show you some class, and you can't stop running your mouth."

Without even looking, she shoved the bottle toward the rack.

Crash!

The bottle hit the floor, shattering into glittering shards. The heady fragrance of rare wine filled the cellar, thick and intoxicating.

My temples pounded, breath catching in my throat.

Gasps rippled through the group.

Dolly blinked, then looked at Steven.

"Steven, this one really wasn't expensive, right? It doesn't matter if it broke?"

Steven waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine."

Relieved, she leaned into him, eyes glistening as she cooed, "You're so good to me."

I let out a cold laugh, pulling out my phone.

"If I'm not mistaken, that bottle sold at the Parleys auction last year… for five million."