Wife, Wine, War

My family owned Belgard Estate, a historic wine property that had recently gone viral after serving as the backdrop for a series of advertisements and product livestreams.

On one occasion, my butler and I could not even enter the grounds. Influencers crowded the entrance, phones raised, security overwhelmed. My fiancée apologized.

"The mayor wanted to borrow the estate, dear. I couldn't tell him no," she said. "Just bear with it for a while, okay? Once the trend dies down, I'll have them all cleared out. Trust me."

I trusted her. I never raised the issue again.

Some time later, my grandfather prepared to celebrate his 90th birthday. I returned to the estate to retrieve our finest vintage for the occasion, only to find myself nearly crushed by a shrieking crowd packed outside the gates.

I slipped away and made my way to the back entrance after someone in the crowd called me a "free-riding bum."

Bewildered, I was ready to present proof of ownership when a woman shouted over the noise, "Didn't you hear? Miss LePenn has already announced that Belgard Estate has been given to Jacques Martin! I don't care how big a fan you are of him. You still have to buy a ticket to see him like the rest of us!"

I stood there, stunned.

Jacques? The first man I had ever allowed to use this estate for a product livestream? It belonged to him now?

And since when had Sylvia become the mistress of this place? Since when did she even have a boyfriend?

Enough was enough. It was time to bring these people's business with Belgard Estate to an end.

"Get a load of this shameless bitch! He thinks he can just walk in without paying!"

"Smile, you freeloading bum. You're on the internet now!"

Phones and cameras shot up and pointed at me like weapons. I turned aside and shielded my face with my hands. I forced myself to stay calm.

"What are you talking about? This estate is mine. I have no idea what you're accusing me of."

The woman who had started the shouting, the obvious ringleader, stepped closer instead of backing off.

She yelled hard enough that flecks of spit nearly hit my face.

"Cut the crap. We all know Belgard Estate belongs to our Jaxie, you scum. If you're going to run a scam, at least pick a place owned by someone as irrelevant as you are.

"Miss LePenn already given this estate to Jaxie. She said so on a livestream."

I frowned.

Half a month ago, my girlfriend, Sylvia LePenn, had lent the estate to the mayor for a promotional shoot. The video had gone viral. Since then, Belgard had become the top livestream backdrop and photo spot for influencers. Once the celebrities arrived, their fans followed. The crowds multiplied overnight.

The problem was simple. I had no idea the estate had turned into a fan gathering site. I owned this place.

Today was my grandfather's birthday party. I did not have time to argue about property rights with people consumed by late-stage parasocial obsession.

I pulled up an official document on my phone and held it out.

"Look at this. My name is on the deed. Belgard is mine," I said evenly. "Now move aside. I need to get my wine."

The ringleader snatched my phone and scanned the screen. She looked me over with open suspicion.

"How are we supposed to know this is real? None of us works in property. None of us owns a wine estate. This could be fake. It could be AI."

My patience snapped, and I called my butler. "William. Tell them. Is this fake?"

William Barnes had served as Belgard's majordomo since he was a young man. He had always been steady and dependable.

I expected him to settle this in seconds.

He glanced at my phone, then tossed it back to me. "Who the hell are you? Everyone knows Miss Sylvia LePenn owns Belgard. I've worked here for decades. I know exactly who I serve, and it's not you."

The woman glared at me.

"So you are a con artist. You're here to sabotage our meet-and-greet, aren't you?" she shrieked. "I can see it in your eyes. You're jealous of Jaxie. You want to hurt him."

The fans behind her surged forward and swallowed her in the crowd.

As she disappeared, I caught a glimpse of the nameplate pinned to her chest: Melanie.

I ignored the mob and fixed my gaze on William and his shifty eyes.

"Who convinced your father to extend your contract when my father planned to fire you ten years ago because you weren't quick enough anymore?" I shot back. "I did. And now you claim you don't know me?"

William wiped sweat from his brow and signaled for security.

Then he raised his voice for the crowd. "Oh, I remember you. You showed up a month ago and refused to leave until you could see Miss LePenn. You thought she might fall for you looking like that. Too bad for you. Miss LePenn already had Jacques by then."

The crowd erupted.

"How dare you try to ruin Jaxie and his sweetheart!"

"Jealousy is ugly, and you're the ugliest of all. Let's make him famous online. See if he can ever show his face outside again," Melanie shouted.

She hurled a water bottle at me. It struck my forehead. Sharp, immediate pain flared. I touched my brow and felt the swelling begin.

As the fans wailed about their perfect love story, a thought began to form in my mind.