?Chapter 321:


    At first, Hurst had felt sure of himself, but the buzzing voices around him started to gnaw at his confidence. He turned the camera back toward the bottle, silently asking Maia for a second opinion.


    Even with the background noise, Maia stayedposed, her tone steady. “Mr. Cooper, you have nothing to worry about. Notice the shade of the wine. It’s darker than most vintages, a sign that it’s been aging properly and probablyes from one of the earliest batches.”


    She leaned closer to the screen, her voice even and clear. “Now, give the bottle a gentle swirl. See how the liquid moves? The viscosity matches what you’d expect from a wine that’s oxidized just the right amount over time. Only an authentic bottle, kept under ideal conditions, would behave like that.”


    After a moment, she added thoughtfully, “Flip the bottle over. Check the bottom. The earliest batches were marked with the initials of the original winemaker.” Immediately, the room grew quiet.


    Hurst turned the bottle upside down, and there they were — the tiny etched letters “SJ,” exactly as Maia had pointed out.


    “Production for this wine stopped years ago,” Maia exined with an easy air. “Finding a genuine bottle these days is almost impossible. Even seasoned collectors rarely get their hands on one. Right now, its real value is at least a hundred times what the listing shows. You’re not losing anything here,” Maia said with a rxed tone, though every word she spokended with undeniable force.


    For a split second, Hurst stood motionless, then broke into a heartyugh.


    It wasn’t just that he didn’t lose anything; it was a massive windfall!


    Silence abruptly enveloped the room as the murmurs ceased. Gradually, each spectator’s voice hushed, their faces clouded with remorse.


    Hadn’t they just ridiculed Hurst for hisck of wine knowledge? It was obvious now that he was backed by a seasoned expert!


    Your next journey starts at g?lnσν???s???o??


    Twenty minutes passed before the taxi reached the gates of Elysium Apartments. When she exited the vehicle, her phone vibrated with a new notification.


    She had just received a bank transfer — for two hundred thousand dors!


    Right after, a message from Hurst popped up. “Thank you, Miss Watson. Consider this your fee.”


    Looking at the generous transfer, Maia promptly sent the money back, texting, “Really, it was just a small help on my part. I don’t need payment for that.”


    Hurst found himself taken aback by her gesture once again.


    He wasted no time and reached out to her through a voice call. “Miss Watson, you’vee to my aid twice now. That makes two debts I owe you. Should you ever require anything, please let me know. I’ll do whatever I can to assist,” he dered, his voice bearing a tone of deep sincerity.


    Maia, however, didn’t take his pledge too seriously. She responded with a light, “Thanks, Mr. Cooper.” After a brief goodbye, she hung up.


    Upon entering her apartment, Maia found it enveloped in silence. She flicked on the living room light.


    Chris was nowhere to be seen.


    She slumped down on the couch, ready to unwind for a while.


    No sooner had she shut her eyes than her phone vibrated once more. It was an rming text message this time. “Boss, someone’s digging into your background!”


    Maia’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the message.


    Her fingertips moved deftly over the screen while she typed a quick response. “Who is it?”


    Within moments, a new message appeared. “The person’s extremely cautious. Tracking them is nearly impossible, but the tech skills are first-rate. Definitely no ordinary figure.”


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