Chapter 298
"Château Blanc still dares to compete?" Dominic Laurent scoffed, tapping his fingers on the table. "If I were them, I'd have crawled into a hole by now."
His lackey immediately chimed in, "You're absolutely right, Dom! That woman isn't even fit to polish your shoes."
Dominic smirked in satisfaction. As the rising star of the sommelier world, he'd always looked down on everyone. The earlier fiasco only deepened his disdain for Evelyn Roland.
The competition began promptly. The first round was white wine tasting.
"Contestants must identify the alcohol content, ingredients, and aging period of each sample," the host announced, his gaze flickering between Dominic and Evelyn.
All eyes were on the pair—Dominic, the acknowledged prodigy, and Evelyn, representing the disgraced winery.
Evelyn remained composed. She lifted the glass and drank in one smooth motion. The wine swirled across her palate as she pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Every detail of the vintage crystallized in her mind.
From the audience, Sebastian Valdemar's piercing gaze never left her. Bathed in stage lights, Evelyn seemed to glow, her focused expression strikingly beautiful. The usual coldness in his eyes softened imperceptibly.
"Brilliant!" Ross Macmillan couldn't help murmuring in admiration.
When the first round concluded, Evelyn won by a narrow margin. Dominic's face darkened—a single miscalculation on the final sample had cost him victory.
"Impossible!" He clenched his fists but dared not make a scene.
Yet Evelyn frowned. The aftertaste of one competition sample lingered—a faint trace of industrial alcohol lurking beneath the vintage's richness like a hidden viper.
This was wrong. Competition wines underwent rigorous screening. How could industrial alcohol appear?
She strode toward Sebastian. The man had reverted to his usual unapproachable demeanor, the earlier warmth in his eyes gone as if imagined.
"The wine was tainted," she stated bluntly. "I detected industrial alcohol."
Sebastian's gaze turned glacial, the air around him dropping several degrees. "Certain?"
"Absolutely." Her voice brooked no argument. "We need to trace the source immediately."
Their eyes met, and they spoke simultaneously: "To the winery."