?Chapter 72:


    Vincenzo jolted upright, as if waking from a bad dream. Maxwell’s words shook him straight to the core.


    The reality hit like a hammer — half of his proud collection, the ones he had spent years showing off, were fakes.


    Loving liquor was one thing. Actually knowing it? That had never been Vincenzo’s strength. He had trusted Denny to be his expert, his shield against scams.


    Back in the day, Denny had been a star in the appraisal world. After a fallout with powerful enemies, he slipped into the ck market, where Vincenzo threw him a lifeline and a ce at The Underbarrel.


    It had been a good deal for Denny. Split profits. A steady fortune. Respect. Safety. And this was how Denny chose to pay him back? With shelves full of fakes?


    Blinding fury rushed over Vincenzo. He grabbed the nearest bottle and hurled it straight at Denny with a roar.


    “You lying piece of shit! How ungrateful you are!”


    Denny tried to dodge out of the way, but he was a step too slow. The bottle shattered against his arm, tearing the skin wide open.


    Blood streamed down, soaking through his sleeve, and Denny’s face turned ghostly pale.


    He had built an entire operation around this scheme, sourcing top-tier counterfeits that were nearly impossible to tell apart from the genuine articles and passing them off as the real deal.


    And for years, he had managed to slip by unnoticed.


    But today, a young woman had managed to expose him.


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    It hit him like a devastating punch to the gut.


    “Boss, please! Just listen to me! I… I swear, I had no idea those bottles were fake!” Denny’s voice cracked as he scrambled for an excuse.


    Before he could say another word, Maia’s voice sliced clean through his desperation. “Is there aputer here?”


    Caught off guard, Vincenzo blinked but gave a stiff nod.


    “Let me use it,” she said, already scanning the room.


    At her request, the shop assistant hurried over with aptop. Maia hopped onto a tall stool, bnced theptop on her knees, and started typing at lightning speed. Within seconds, chat logs filled the screen, lines of damning conversations scrolling by.


    “Here. Take a look,” Maia said as she handed theptop to Vincenzo.


    Vincenzo grabbed it, skimmed the contents, and his face darkened like a thundercloud. Rage twisted his features until he barely looked human. He spun theptop toward Denny and shouted, “What else do you have to say for yourself now?!”


    Denny staggered back, as if the screen had physically struck him.


    Those were his private messages, the exact records of his dealings in fake wine. Yet those files had been buried deep inside his phone andptop. How on earth had they surfaced here?


    Denny stared at Maia in disbelief.


    Had she really hacked into his devices and pulled out the chat records?


    Who in the world was she?!


    Vincenzo took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. He opened the purchase records, ced theptop in front of Maxwell, and said, his voice strained, “Mr. Payne, I swear I value honesty above everything. Since I’ve run this ce, I never once intended to sell fakes. You can check every invoice. Every bottle was bought at top dor. I trusted Denny to handle the selection. I never thought he’d stab me in the back like this. If it weren’t for this youngdy, I’d still be getting conned. And my customers… I owe them. I’ll make it right. Mr. Payne, you decide how we settle this. Whatever you say, I won’t argue.”


    Maxwell finally pieced everything together. He rose from his seat, walked straight over to Denny, and said in a cold voice, “Hand over every cent you made from this little scheme, and maybe I’ll let you keep breathing. If not… by tomorrow morning, someone’s going to find your corpse outside the ck market.”


    Denny gasped for air, sweat pouring down his face. “I’ll pay it all back! Everyst cent!”


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