The Winemaker's Wife Novels & Stories

Julian quickly stepped forward, his face flushing with a brief flicker of embarrassment before he masked it with a submissive, oily smile. He reached down and roughly grabbed Elena’s arm, forcing her to stand upright while he kicked the fallen silver tongs beneath the couch. "Apologies, gentlemen," Julian said, his voice straining to maintain a jovial tone. "My wife is simply overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of your presence. She is usually far more graceful." He leaned in closer to Elena, his fingers digging into her skin with a punishing pressure. "Pick up the pot and serve them before I lose my patience," he muttered under his breath.

"Arthur, go! Don't worry about me." I crouched down and pulled Emily into my arms. She was the person closest to me, the one I cherished most, and now these animals were treating her like garbage. Brandon was still shouting from the side, "Wow, the sick girl's still not dead? Tough little thing, huh?" He suddenly grabbed a bottle of red wine from the table and splashed it all over us, grinning as he said, "Let me cool you off, wake you up a little!" Cassie stood to the side, watching coldly. She calmly pulled out a tissue and helped Brandon wipe the wine stains off his hands.

I never break my rules. Not for money. Not for loyalty. And certainly not for anyone else’s wife. Yet here I was, standing in a room where power whispered from every corner. The polished mahogany tables gleamed under soft chandeliers, men in tailored suits whispered deals, and yet all I could see was her. Selene Hawthorne moved through the crowd like a storm contained within elegance — untouchable, graceful, and utterly oblivious to the chaos she’d already sown inside me.

He doesn’t even spare me a glance. “Lena is not a slave, and I need her to…” “Go” he cuts me off. “The woman would not be leaving.” “But…” “That’s final. Now leave Maria.” Walter roars with laughter along with the scantily dressed women perched on his laps. “Dear me! I’ve heard about the way you discipline the women in your household, but I didn’t think it extended to even your wife.” Cheeks burning in humiliation, I hurry out of the room with Walter’s maid before Sebastain can say something worse.

Planted. I got myself a glass of champagne and started making rounds. It didn't take long to find what she'd been sowing. I was near the bar, refilling my glass, when two women from the marketing department walked past me without noticing I was there. They were talking in that conspiratorial half-whisper that people used when they thought they were being discreet. "Did you hear about Seraphine Arkwright? Maribel was saying she's been having episodes. Like, full-on breakdowns at work."

she said in astonishment. "Yes! And this will be your house too," he said sweetly. "Wooow! Thank you, honey!" Rica exclaimed joyfully as she hugged Winson in front of the house. Winson didn’t mind her hugging him even though people could see them. "Wow! Another woman with Winson? Is she the real wife this time? Maybe just another mistress! Poor women who fall victim to him," the people outside murmured. "Did Lorain used to live here? Wow, she was so lucky. The house is beautiful and big! And her husband’s so handsome! I don’t need anything else. I won’t let go of Winson. He’ll be mine forever," Rica vowed to herself.

"Talia, I'm not interested in your pocket change." She didn't snap. She laughed, turning to the crowd. "Sorry you all had to see this. He's my husband's old benefactor—did him a favor once. Out of gratitude, I've been covering his food and clothes. Guess it wasn't enough. Now he's here trying to wreck our family." Just like that, she flipped everything—swapped me with Danny and made me the pathetic leech. I pressed my tongue to my burning cheek and walked straight at her, face cold.

She swirled the wine, inhaled the aroma, and took a slow, deliberate sip, savoring it as if she were dissecting the very soul of the winery. "I must give your ex-wife credit," she finally said, setting the glass down. "She has built the Hale Winery into something truly remarkable. It’s a tragedy, really, that she wasn't better informed by the people who were supposed to be her guides. It would be such a shame for all those years of hard work to go to waste because of a... simple oversight in ownership." "What do you mean, 'go to waste'?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.

"The truth is, my wife, Giulia Romano, and I had a fight. This wedding is fake. It's just a tactic to force my wife to appear. If any of you know where she is, I'll reward you handsomely!" Isabella had not expected Dante to pull this stunt. Her heart lurched. "Dante, stop this! How is this going to help us find Giulia?" "Hello, I might know the Giulia you're looking for—" Isabella's words were interrupted by a timid voice. Dante whipped his head toward the sound and saw a young woman. The woman shrank back slightly. Despite Isabella's warning glare, she mustered her courage and said, "I'm a nurse. Two weeks ago, at the scene of that street shootout, I treated a pregnant woman named Giulia Ro

When Maverly noticed that Xanthus stopped drinking, she said, "I asked my mother for this bottle of wine. It's expensive." Xanthus raised an eyebrow at her and thought to himself, 'Why didn't I taste that earlier?' Then, he picked up his glass and took another sip. Jeremy once mentioned that his ex-wife ran a red wine business and she owned a vineyard specifically for making red wine. Her business was even better than their hospital's. After tasting the wine carefully, Xanthus realized that it was truly a good wine. He glanced at the bottle and when he noticed the year, he narrowed his eyes at Maverly. "Why did you waste such good wine?"