"Sign it, Mrs. Montclair."
The second floor of a private auction house, off Rue Saint-Honoré in Paris's 8th Arrondissement.
On the heavy oak table, a debt restructuring agreement was pushed in front of Isabella.
It was raining outside.
Rainwater slid down the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching the streetlights into dim yellow lines.
Thirty-six-year-old Isabella de Montlais sat at the end of the long table.
In a black gown with pearl earrings, her chestnut hair pinned up, the lines of her neck and shoulders were as elegant as an old oil painting.
Her fingers, gripping a fountain pen, trembled slightly.
Half a year ago, her husband died in a car accident.
He left behind a two-hundred-year-old winery in Bordeaux and a mountain of debt.
And a swarm of relatives waiting to carve up the inheritance.
Today, the Paris Union Bank gave her an ultimatum.
Sign, and the Montlais Winery would enter debt restructuring.
It sounded respectable.
But once signed, in three months, the Montlais Winery would be swallowed up by the bank and the buyers at a bargain price.
The bank representative sitting opposite her adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses.
"Mrs. Montclair, you have no other choice."
He pushed the agreement another inch forward.
"Your cash flow has broken, and short-term loans are maturing. If you sign today, you can at least preserve a shred of dignity for the Montlais family."
A soft chuckle sounded from the side.
Pierre leaned back in his chair.
He was the cousin of Isabella's husband.
Just after the funeral, he had arrived with a lawyer, demanding a review of the inheritance.
Nominally, he was the family representative.
In reality, he wanted Isabella to sign even more than the bank did.
"Isabella, stop stalling."
Pierre tapped on the table.
"A woman can't hold onto a winery, especially not someone like you who married into it. Leaving you a small estate is already merciful."
Isabella didn't look at him.
She stared at the signature line at the end of the contract.
The tip of her pen descended inch by inch.
At that moment, a young man's voice came from the doorway.
"She cannot sign this contract."
The pen stopped.
Everyone turned their heads at once.
Standing at the door was a young man with black hair and an Eastern face.
He wore an old trench coat and a white shirt with no tie, the cuffs washed thin and faded.
He looked completely out of place in this reception room filled with antique silverware, oil paintings, and leather chairs.
He walked in, his gaze sweeping over the contract before landing on Isabella's face.
Jiang Lin.
Twenty-eight years old.
Three minutes ago, he had just woken up from death.
Lying in a cold, damp rented room in the Paris suburbs, his stomach full of the bitter taste of alcohol and cheap pills.
It was the winter of 2030.
He had spent fifteen years struggling in Europe.
He had waited tables, worked illegal jobs, served as a translator, and hauled goods for auction houses.
He had seen the doors of high society, and had had those same doors slammed in his face.
In the end, he died in a debt scam.
When he opened his eyes again, the date had become May 17, 2010.
Jiang Lin did not return to the rented room.
He used the last twenty-seven euros he had to take a taxi here.
Today was the day the Montlais Winery was at its cheapest, and also the day Isabella was most isolated and helpless.
The bank representative frowned.
"Sir, this is a private meeting. You have no right to enter."
Jiang Lin ignored him.
He walked to the long table and reached out to press his hand on the contract.
"Article 12."
He flipped to the second page and pointed to a line of small print.
"During the debt restructuring period, if the winery fails to meet the bank's specified cash flow standards for two consecutive calendar months, the bank has the right to take over the pledged assets ahead of schedule."
He flipped to the fourth page.
"Article 21: Inventory wines, trademark rights, and overseas sales channels are all included as supplementary collateral."
Finally, he flipped to the second-to-last page.
"Article 34: The bank-appointed third-party valuation agency has the final right of interpretation for valuation."
Jiang Lin looked up.
"The cash flow standard is calculated based on last year's peak season, but with French wine exports currently declining, she simply cannot meet it."
"The third-party valuation agency is your own people."
"Inventory wines, trademarks, and channels are all included in the collateral."
"If she signs today, she will definitely default in three months, and you will be able to take the Montlais Winery for less than thirty percent of its market value."
The room fell silent instantly.
The bank representative looked at him with hostile eyes.
The smile on Pierre's face froze.
Isabella finally raised her head and looked at Jiang Lin.
The bank representative said in a low voice, "Sir, these are malicious accusations."
Jiang Lin smiled.
"Do you need me to keep reading?"
He picked up the appendix.
"The current valuation of the Montlais Winery is 3.8 million euros."
"In your risk control report, wineries of the same grade in the same region are valued at over twenty million euros."
"The Montlais Winery has complete trademarks, old vine vineyards, underground cellar inventory, and Asian distribution records."
"And now you're offering 3.8 million."
He looked at the few wine merchants in the corner.
"The buyer has already been decided, right?"
One wine merchant instinctively averted his gaze.
The bank representative's face darkened completely.
"Security."
Jiang Lin took out an old mobile phone and placed it on the table.
"Before you call security, answer one question first."
"Why were the 2001, 2005, and 2008 vintage inventory wines of the Montlais Winery not included in the revaluation?"
The bank representative's expression changed slightly.
Pierre looked up sharply.
Isabella's eyes changed as well.
Jiang Lin continued.
"Cellar No. 3 has at least over ten thousand bottles of 2005 first-label wine, four thousand bottles of 2001 second-label wine, and a batch of unaged vintage stock."
"These wines were valued by you as ordinary inventory."
"You know very well that the 2005 Bordeaux vintage is about to skyrocket in price."
"The conservative valuation of the inventory is over six million euros, yet you wrote less than eight hundred thousand in your report."
The bank representative sneered.
"How do you know what will happen in half a month?"
"You're playing dumb."
Jiang Lin picked up his phone, dialed a number, and pressed speakerphone.
The call went through quickly.
"Mr. Jiang?"
On the other end of the line was a middle-aged man with a Cantonese accent.
Jiang Lin said in Chinese:
"Mr. Lin, for the 2005 first-label wines from the Montlais Winery, a first batch of ten thousand bottles, with an advance payment of one million euros—can you wire it today?"
There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.
"Is the source clean?"
"The owner of the winery is right in front of me."
"What about the price?"
Jiang Lin stated a number.
The other party immediately said, "At that price, I want thirty thousand bottles."
"Ten thousand bottles first."
"I'll have finance prepare the advance payment now. Send the contract, and we'll process the bank guarantee tonight."
The call ended.
The reception room was deathly silent.
Isabella stared at Jiang Lin.
Old trench coat, old mobile phone.
No luxury watch, no assistant, nothing that could prove his identity.
Yet one phone call had completely shattered the bank's valuation report.
Pierre couldn't help but speak up.
"Who on earth are you?"
Jiang Lin looked at him.
"You want her to sign so badly because you took a kickback from the buyers."
Pierre slammed the table.
"Nonsense!"
Jiang Lin's tone was calm.
"That shell consulting company under your name received a 200,000 euro consultation fee last week."
"The payer was an account associated with Lemaire Wine."
"The people from Lemaire Wine are here today too, sitting right there."
In the corner, a bald man's face turned pale instantly.
Isabella slowly looked at Pierre.
"Isabella, don't listen to his nonsense! Some Eastern kid who popped out of nowhere—what does he know?"
Jiang Lin closed the contract and pushed it back in front of the bank representative.
"I know one thing."
"Everyone here today who wants to devour her winery is afraid of her making it through this month."
Isabella slowly put down the fountain pen.
The bank representative stared at her.
"Madam, if you refuse to sign the agreement, the bank has the right to initiate forced debt collection procedures within forty-eight hours."
Jiang Lin spoke up.
"Forty-eight hours is enough."
The bank representative sneered.
"Enough for what?"
"Enough for her to receive the first advance payment."
"Enough to re-evaluate the inventory wines."
"Enough to apply for a temporary injunction."
"Enough to let the media know how a French bank colluded with buyers to undervalue a century-old winery owned by a widow."
The bank representative's face looked ugly.
Once the media, courts, regulatory agencies, and Asian buyers all entered the fray.
This matter would no longer be containable.
Pierre gritted his teeth.
"Isabella, are you really going to trust this person of unknown origin?"
Isabella finally looked at him.
"Uncle Pierre, you want me to sign so badly?"
"I'm just thinking about the family."
"The family?"
Isabella picked up the agreement and tore it in half in front of everyone.
The bank representative stood up abruptly.
"Madam!"
Isabella placed the torn paper back on the table.
"I will not sign."
She looked at Jiang Lin.
"Mr. Jiang, I will give you forty-eight hours."
Jiang Lin nodded.
"That's enough."
"What do you want?"
Jiang Lin didn't beat around the bush.
"Thirty percent equity in the Montlais Winery."
Pierre laughed in extreme anger.
"Thirty percent? You're crazy. A poor kid—what makes you think you deserve that?"
Jiang Lin didn't look at him.
"Because I can make this winery survive."
He looked at Isabella.
"I don't want cash, I don't want a house, and I don't want anything you can't afford to give right now."
"For the next three years, I will be in charge of the Montlais Winery's Asian market. I will solve the debt crisis and kick out, one by one, the people here waiting to carve you up."
"In exchange, I want thirty percent equity."
Isabella was silent for a moment.
"And if you fail?"
"I will be finished before you are. They only want your winery, but I have offended everyone here."
Isabella looked around.
The bank representative's face was gloomy.
Pierre's eyes were filled with venom.
The wine merchants had various expressions.
She understood.
From the moment Jiang Lin walked in the door, he had already tied his fate to hers.
She picked up her handbag, stood up, and walked toward the door.
When she passed by Jiang Lin, she stopped.
"Mr. Jiang."
"Yes?"
"If you lie to me, I will destroy you with my own hands."
Jiang Lin opened the conference room door for her.
"Mrs. Montclair, from today on, what you should be considering is not how to destroy me."
He glanced at the people in the conference room.
"It's how to work with me to send them all to hell."
Isabella did not answer.
She walked out of the reception room, and out of the grave that had been prepared for her.
Downstairs, a black sedan was parked in the rain.
The driver opened the car door with an umbrella.
After Isabella sat inside, she looked at Jiang Lin.
"Get in."
Jiang Lin bent over and sat into the car.
The door closed, shutting out the sound of the rain.
Isabella took off her gloves.
"Where to?"
"Back to the winery."
"Why?"
"I want to see Cellar No. 3."
Isabella stared at him.
"How do you know about Cellar No. 3?"
Jiang Lin watched the streetlights receding outside the car window.
"I also know that the last batch of wine your husband registered before he died was incomplete, and the Asian distribution contract is being hidden in an old filing cabinet. Pierre will contact the bank tonight, and tomorrow morning, he will freeze several of your accounts."
Isabella's expression changed slightly.
"Jiang Lin, who on earth are you?"
Jiang Lin leaned back in his seat.
The Jiang Lin from his past life, who had struggled at the bottom of Europe until his death, was gone.
He would start from this car and re-enter Europe.
Starting from a bankrupt winery in Bordeaux.
Starting from a French noblewoman who had been pushed into a dead end.
Kicking down, one by one, the doors he could only look up to in his past life.
At this moment, a line of pale gold text appeared before his eyes.
【Fate Investment System activated.】
【High-value fate target detected: Isabella de Montlais.】
【Identity: Mistress of the Bordeaux Montlais Winery.】
【Current predicament: Husband's death, bank debt collection, family trying to seize assets, assets maliciously undervalued.】
【Fate Rating: S-Class.】
【Current Task: Stop the bank's forced debt collection within forty-eight hours.】
【Task Rewards: Cash flow startup capital, increased target trust, hidden intelligence on the Paris auction.】
Jiang Lin finished reading, his eyes remaining calm.
Everyone has a price.
Every relationship has a return.
Every choice is an investment.
And Isabella was his first S-Class target after his rebirth.
He withdrew his gaze and looked at the woman beside him.
"Who I am is not important. What is important is that, Madam, your Montlais Winery will not be stolen."