Chapter 2: Beneath the Cellar

The Halcyon cellar smelled of oak, dust, and money.

But beneath that—

Something sour.

Evelyn walked ahead, heels quiet against the stone floor. The officers followed, along with a reluctant Camilla and a pale, sweating sommelier.

“Open it,” Evelyn said.

The sommelier hesitated.

One of the officers stepped forward.

The key turned.

Inside, rows upon rows of bottles gleamed under soft amber light—perfectly arranged, perfectly labeled.

Perfectly wrong.

Evelyn moved closer, lifting one bottle, then another. Her fingers traced labels, caps, seals.

“Mass production dressed as heritage,” she murmured.

Camilla stood at the entrance, arms wrapped tightly now—not in defiance, but in containment.

“You don’t understand this business,” she said. “Do you have any idea how much these collections are worth?”

“Yes,” Evelyn said without looking up. “That’s why people fake them.”

She turned, holding up a bottle.

“Same micro-print error,” she said. “Same adhesive residue.”

The officer beside her nodded, already documenting.

“Miss Vale,” he said carefully, “we’re going to need you to come with us for further questioning.”

Camilla’s composure fractured.

“This is absurd,” she said, stepping back. “This is my family’s estate.”

Evelyn stepped forward—not aggressive, not rushed.

Inevitable.

“Then you should know exactly what’s in your cellar.”

Camilla opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

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Behind her, the sommelier closed his eyes.

Just for a second.