Isabella stood by the desk, her fingers resting lightly on the telephone.
The British Wendell Family.
France has its wineries, banks, and luxury families, as well as the salons and galas left behind by the old aristocracy.
Britain, however, is a different kind of old world—more closed off, colder, and more particular about lineage and rules.
Victoria, the Countess of Wendell, is a quintessential woman of that old world.
She married into the Earl's family when she was young.
Her husband was obsessed with horse racing, hunting grounds, and mistresses.
The debts of Wendell Castle grew heavier by the day, yet the trust assets remained firmly under the control of her husband and his legal team.
On the surface, Victoria remained an elegant British countess, but she had been trapped by that castle and that surname for many years.
Isabella had met her once.
At a charity gala in London, Victoria was wearing a dark green gown.
She sat by the fireplace, surrounded by several noble ladies.
She spoke very little, like an ancient castle in the mist.
A woman like that would not call without a reason.
Alan stood to one side of the study, his expression complex.
"If the Wendell Family gets involved, the provenance of this painting will become even more troublesome."
Jiang Lin said, "Complexity is what makes it valuable."
Alan looked at him.
"Once the provenance involves noble families, inheritance rights, or private sale records, there could be disputes later on."
"I know."
"Are you still planning to go to London?"
"Of course."
Alan was silent.
Isabella turned around and looked at Jiang Lin.
"Mrs. Wendell wishes to see you within three days. The location is tentatively set for London, and the specifics will be confirmed by her secretary."
Jiang Lin nodded.
"That works."
"But before we go to London, we have one more thing to do."
Isabella picked up an invitation from the table.
It was made of deep wine-red cardstock with gold-stamped lettering and embossed grapevine patterns along the edges.
"Tonight, there is a French wine industry charity gala in Paris."
Jiang Lin took the invitation.
The venue was a private mansion in the 8th arrondissement of Paris.
The host was a veteran figure in the French wine association.
Attendees included owners of several wineries in Bordeaux, Parisian bankers, wine merchants, and auction house consultants.
As well as several ladies from the luxury circle.
Media and Asian buyers.
Isabella was originally on the guest list as well.
Before her husband passed away, Montlais Winery attended this gala every year.
She had intended to decline this year.
With the bank pressing for debt, family betrayal, and wavering staff, she had no energy to put on a gown and exchange pleasantries with those people.
But now, things were different.
Alan frowned.
"Madam, it is very dangerous to go now."
"Pierre is spreading rumors in Paris that Mr. Jiang used your money to buy a forgery."
"Bernard is also asking around everywhere."
"Although the bank has temporarily backed off, Moro will definitely be there tonight."
Martin also said, "Madam, you need to rest."
Isabella did not answer.
She looked at Jiang Lin.
"Do you think I should go?"
Jiang Lin placed the invitation back on the table.
"Go."
Alan immediately said, "Mr. Jiang, public opinion is currently unfavorable to Madam."
"That is exactly why you must go."
"They are waiting for Madam to make a fool of herself."
"Then let them see clearly, face to face, who will be the one making a fool of themselves."
Alan was speechless for a moment.
Jiang Lin looked at Isabella.
"Absence from Paris will imply that you are guilty. Pierre will say you are under my control, the bank will say the winery is in disarray, Bernard will say I was afraid to show my face after buying a forgery. Everyone will believe that Montlais Winery has only managed to hang on for one more day."
He paused for a moment.
"You need to make a high-profile appearance, bringing me, the orders, the court receipts, and the preliminary report from Auguste, and let them say those things to your face."
Isabella listened quietly.
She traced the edges of the invitation with her fingers and looked at Martin.
"Prepare the car."
"Yes, Madam."
Isabella looked at Jiang Lin again.
"Tonight, you must dress more like someone from European high society."
Jiang Lin looked down at himself.
"This isn't enough?"
"It's fine for entering an auction house, but it's not enough to stand by my side and make those people shut up."
Two hours later, in the dressing room outside the master bedroom of Montlais Winery, Martin arrived with a tailor and a full set of evening wear.
A deep black tuxedo jacket.
A white dress shirt.
A black bow tie.
A pair of leather shoes polished to a mirror finish.
After changing, Jiang Lin stood in front of the mirror, pausing for a moment himself.
The man in the mirror had straight shoulders, clean features, and neatly combed black hair.
Martin stood to the side, adjusting his cufflinks.
"Madam has a very good eye."
Jiang Lin said, "She picked out the clothes?"
"Yes."
"No wonder the size is so accurate."
Martin's movements paused for a second.
"Madam has always had excellent observational skills."
Jiang Lin smiled and didn't reply.
When he walked out of the dressing room, Isabella also came out of the master bedroom.
She was wearing a deep wine-red gown tonight.
The color was like an aged Bordeaux red wine, with a deep, dark luster under the lights.
The dress was cleanly cut, revealing her full shoulder and neck line.
She was not wearing that sapphire brooch on her neck, only a delicate diamond necklace.
The space where the brooch used to be was, conversely, even more conspicuous.
Jiang Lin's gaze lingered for a moment when he saw it.
Isabella naturally noticed it.
"What are you looking at?"
"I'm looking at the spot where the brooch was."
"It is empty now."
"It will be back soon."
She looked at him.
"I hope so."
Martin opened the door for the two of them.
Isabella walked to Jiang Lin's side and gently took his arm.
This action caused several servants nearby to be slightly stunned.
Jiang Lin also looked down at it.
Isabella did not avoid his gaze.
"Tonight, you are my consultant and the new partner of Montlais Winery."
"Only a consultant and partner?"
"For now."
Her tone was calm.
"As for the future, that depends on your performance tonight."
Jiang Lin laughed.
"That's a lot of pressure."
"You don't look like someone who is afraid of pressure."
The black sedan drove away from the winery, heading straight for Paris.
Isabella leaned back in the rear seat, holding a few documents.
Jiang Lin looked down at the message sent by Zhao Hong.
"【Boss Jiang, Pierre will be going tonight.】"
"【Bernard will also be there.】"
"【Moro has brought people; he will probably try to bring up the bank valuation again.】"
"【The boss of Lemaire Wine will also appear.】"
"【There is also a reporter from a financial tabloid, specially waiting to ask Madam about the fake painting.】"
Jiang Lin replied.
"【Have someone hand the question to that reporter.】"
Zhao Hong replied quickly.
"【What question should I hand over?】"
Jiang Lin typed.
"【Ask if I embezzled funds from Montlais Winery to buy a forgery for 250,000.】"
Zhao Hong was silent for a few seconds.
"【Boss Jiang, are you sure?】"
"【I'm sure.】"
"【This question will sound very ugly.】"
"【The uglier, the better.】"
Zhao Hong replied with "Understood."
Isabella saw the light from the screen and asked, "Zhao Hong?"
"Yes."
"Is he reliable?"
"Reliable for now."
"Reliable on what?"
"Money, evidence, and fear."
Isabella looked at him.
"You are very direct in how you use people."
"The lower down the social ladder people are, the more they hate ambiguity."
Jiang Lin put away his phone.
"If you give them empty promises, they will betray you. Give them visible money and a visible knife, and they will work seriously."
Isabella was silent for a moment.
"You must have had a very difficult life in the past."
Jiang Lin did not answer.
Outside the car window, the lights of Paris gradually became clear.
At 8:20, the sedan stopped in front of a private mansion in the 8th arrondissement of Paris.
The entrance was already full of luxury cars.
Men were wearing tuxedos, and women were wearing evening gowns.
Waiters moved about carrying champagne, and soft string music drifted from the foyer.
As soon as Isabella got out of the car, several gazes immediately fell upon her.
Some were surprised.
Some were amused.
Some whispered to each other.
"She actually came."
"I heard the bank has suspended debt collection."
"Is that Asian man Jiang Lin?"
"He's too young."
"I heard he used her mother's jewelry to buy a fake painting."
"Poor thing, her husband just died, and she's already being scammed by someone like that."
Isabella held onto Jiang Lin's arm.
Jiang Lin led her into the mansion.
The hall was brightly lit.
Crystal chandeliers hung from above, oil paintings adorned the walls, and the long tables were covered with white tablecloths.
High society is best at wrapping conflict in silk and candlelight; even the knives are scented with perfume.
The host, Mr. Delacour, personally came up to greet them.
He was over sixty.
He was tall and thin with silver-white hair, and upon seeing Isabella, he displayed a perfectly measured expression of surprise.
"Mrs. Montclair, your presence makes tonight's gala truly complete."
Isabella extended her hand.
"Mr. Delacour, thank you for the invitation."
Delacour kissed the back of her hand, then looked at Jiang Lin.
"Is this the Mr. Jiang that all of Bordeaux has been talking about for the past two days?"
Jiang Lin extended his hand.
"Jiang Lin."
As Delacour shook his hand, his eyes were filled with scrutiny.
"Surprisingly young."
"Many opportunities arrive unexpectedly as well."
Delacour smiled.
"I hope you enjoy Paris tonight."
"I have already started enjoying it."
Delacour understood the sharpness in those words, and his smile deepened.
The two entered the hall, and gazes pressed in from all directions.
Jiang Lin saw Moro.
The representative of the Paris Union Bank stood in the middle of a group of bankers.
Holding a glass of champagne, he looked at him coldly.
He also saw Pierre.
He was dressed very formally tonight, with his family crest pinned to his chest.
Not far away was Bernard, walking over with a wine glass in hand.
"Mr. Jiang."
Bernard smiled stiffly.
"I didn't expect we would meet again so soon."
Jiang Lin looked at him.
"Mr. Leclerc, is the offer of three hundred thousand euros still valid?"
The people around them heard this and immediately pricked up their ears.
Bernard kept his smile.
"Of course, as long as Mr. Jiang is willing to part with it."
"Three hundred thousand yesterday, what about today?"
"How much does Mr. Jiang want?"
"Aren't you all saying that it's a fake?"
The atmosphere in the hall fell into a subtle silence.
The smile on Bernard's face could barely hold.
Pierre happened to walk over.
"Mr. Jiang is certainly aware of what is being said outside."
Jiang Lin turned his head.
"Good evening, Mr. Pierre."
Pierre looked at Isabella.
"Isabella, I didn't expect you would actually come tonight."
Isabella said indifferently.
"I have friends and business partners here, why shouldn't I come?"
Pierre glanced at Jiang Lin.
"I'm just worried that you haven't realized you are becoming a laughingstock in Paris."
The surrounding voices lowered.
Many people pretended to look at the wine list, but were actually listening.
Pierre continued:
"The whole of Paris is whispering that you've been deceived by an unknown young man."
Before Isabella could speak, Jiang Lin laughed first.
"The whole of Paris?"
Pierre scoffed.
"At least everyone present tonight has heard it."
Jiang Lin looked around.
"That's perfect, it saves me from having to notify everyone one by one."
Pierre frowned.
Jiang Lin looked at Bernard.
"Mr. Leclerc, you bid up to two hundred thousand euros yesterday, and then wanted to buy that painting from me for three hundred thousand. Why are you in such a rush for a fake?"
Everyone's gaze instantly fell on Bernard.
Bernard's expression turned ugly.
"The art market sometimes depends on personal preference."
Jiang Lin nodded.
"Your preferences are very expensive."
Someone chuckled softly.
Bernard gripped his wine glass, forcing himself to suppress his emotions.
Pierre said immediately:
"Whether a painting is valuable or not has nothing to do with whether you misappropriated Mrs. Montclair's money."
At this moment, a reporter from a financial tabloid squeezed to the outer edge.
"Mr. Jiang, are you defrauding a widow?"
Isabella's eyes turned cold.
Alain was standing not far away, already prepared to speak.
But Jiang Lin raised his hand to stop him.
He looked at the reporter.
"The money was lent to me by Mrs. Montclair in a private capacity. Lawyer Alain can provide the documents at any time."
Alain nodded immediately.
"It is completely compliant."
Jiang Lin looked at the crowd.
"The winery has signed the first batch of supply contracts, the additional two million euros will arrive within twenty-four hours, the cash flow is stable, and the bank's short-term debt collection proceedings have been suspended by the court."
Moro's expression changed slightly.
Many people turned to look at him.
Jiang Lin continued.
"That painting was preliminarily observed by Mr. Auguste Lemaitre. There are traces of an old signature in the lower layer of the painting, and the backing board has a label suspected to be from the old collection of the Wendell Family in England."
Low gasps of exclamation finally sounded in the hall.
"Auguste?"
"Old collection of the Wendell Family?"
"Isn't that painting an anonymous imitation?"
Bernard's face changed completely. He stared at Jiang Lin fixedly, his eyes full of regret and jealousy.
Pierre seemed not to have reacted yet.
"This is just your claim."
Jiang Lin looked at him.
"Countess Wendell's private secretary contacted Mrs. Montclair this afternoon. Within three days, I will take the painting's documentation to London to meet with Mrs. Wendell."
He paused for a moment.
"Mr. Pierre, you can continue to claim publicly that it is a fake. When the time comes, Mrs. Wendell will hear it."
Pierre's face turned pale instantly.
The reporter asked immediately.
"Mr. Jiang, do you mean that the painting is worth far more than two hundred and fifty thousand euros?"
Jiang Lin did not answer immediately.
He looked at Bernard.
"Mr. Leclerc, what do you think?"
Bernard wished he could crush the wine glass in his hand.
Jiang Lin did not give him a way out.
"Your offer from just now, is three hundred thousand euros still valid?"
"Temporarily... valid."
"You said it was a fake, why are you willing to buy it for three hundred thousand euros?"
Pierre couldn't help but step forward.
"Isabella, do you really want to let this person drag Montlais Winery into even bigger trouble?"
Isabella looked at him.
"Pierre, is your so-called trouble the fact that I didn't lose the winery according to your arrangements?"
Pierre's face stiffened.
Isabella continued.
"You accepted a two hundred thousand euro consulting fee from Lemaire Wine and sat in the bank conference room watching me sign. Now you stand here and accuse the person who saved the winery?"
Pierre said anxiously, "That money was for normal business consulting."
Jiang Lin smiled lightly.
"Very good."
"Lawyer Alain has already organized the records. Would you be willing to explain in detail in front of the media?"
Pierre's lips trembled.
Moro finally walked over.
"Mr. Jiang, you seem to enjoy bringing business issues into public settings tonight."
Jiang Lin looked at him.
"Mr. Moro, contract traps are also very suitable for public discussion. For example, your bank valued Montlais Winery at three million eight hundred thousand euros, but did not include the inventory in Cellar No. 3, or the default trigger clauses in the restructuring agreement."
"The bank never does anything illegal."
"That's why the court accepted our application for a temporary injunction."
Isabella's phone rang, and she looked up at Jiang Lin.
"Mr. Lin's additional payment has arrived."
Jiang Lin looked at Moro.
"Two million has arrived. Mr. Moro, does your bank still insist that Montlais Winery lacks short-term solvency?"
Moro's expression finally showed a crack.
Delacour walked over and raised his wine glass.
"Mrs. Montclair, it seems we all underestimated the guest you brought tonight."
Isabella glanced at Jiang Lin.
"I also underestimated him once."
Delacour laughed and said:
"Mr. Jiang, people like you rarely appear in Paris."
Jiang Lin raised his glass.
"Then you all will get used to it from now on."
Isabella did not rush to agree.
She only said.
"Have your superiors talk to my lawyer."
Moro's face stiffened slightly, but he could only nod.
Before midnight, the banquet ended.
Isabella and Jiang Lin walked out of the mansion.
Flashlights flashed a few times.
A few reporters surrounded them, but their questions were much more polite than when they entered.
"Mrs. Montclair, has the winery overcome the crisis?"
"Mr. Jiang, will you go to London to meet Countess Wendell?"
"Is that painting really related to Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres?"
Jiang Lin only answered one sentence.
"Wait for the official appraisal."
He protected Isabella as she got into the car.
The car door closed, and the sounds outside were cut off.
Isabella leaned back in her seat and let out a long sigh.
Jiang Lin looked at her.
"Tired?"
"I haven't fought a battle like this in a long time."
"You fought well tonight."
Isabella turned her head to look at him.
"Just well?"
"Very well."
"Jiang Lin."
"Hmm?"
"After tonight, Paris will remember you."
"Not enough yet."
"What else do you want?"
"Paris is just a door."
Isabella was silent for a moment.
"London?"
"London."
Pale golden text appeared before Jiang Lin's eyes.
"【Public counterattack mission completed.】"
"【Paris wine industry banquet reputation increased.】"
"【Target trust level: 72 → 80】"
"【Reward obtained: Entry-level ticket to French high society.】"
"【New resources unlocked: Paris Wine Association connections, art media attention, bank debt renegotiation window.】"
"【Second S-rank destiny target mission progress: Go to London.】"
"【Hint: Victoria Wendell has confirmed a meeting at Wendell Castle in three days.】"
"Tonight, you didn't make me lose face."
"Just didn't make you lose face?"
"Very much didn't make me lose face."
The car drove through the Parisian night, heading toward Bordeaux.
At the same time, outside London, an ancient castle shrouded in fog.
Victoria Wendell sat in front of the fireplace, holding a freshly printed news briefing.
There was a photo on it.
At the entrance of the Paris banquet, Isabella was holding the arm of a young man.
The man in the photo was looking up at the camera.
Victoria picked up her black tea, took a light sip, and whispered.
""Jiang Lin...""