Chapter 4: When Angels Fall from Heaven

Sera's POV

"Sera? Sera, where are you?"

Léo's voice echoed across the vineyard as I perched on a stone wall, glaring at my phone like it was about to blow up. The lawyer's words still hammered in my head, each one driving another nail into my coffin.

One hundred thousand pounds. Due in seven days. Criminal charges if I couldn't pay.

'How the hell did my life turn into this shitshow?'

I'd thought I was finally getting a grip. The family treated me like a piece of furniture, but at least I wasn't headed for prison. Or so I'd believed. Turns out, Dad had been even busier with his shady guarantees than anyone knew.

"There you are." Léo emerged from the vines, his easy smile fading when he saw my face. "Jesus, what's wrong? You look like someone died."

"Someone did," I said flatly. "My dad. And he's still screwing up my life from the grave."

He sat down next to me on the wall, close enough that I could feel his warmth. "Talk to me."

For a second, I just stared at him—this gorgeous guy who'd been nothing but decent to me, probably thinking he was dealing with normal drama. How do you explain being a total financial trainwreck?

"Remember those debts from my dad I thought were sorted?"

"Yeah."

"Well, plot twist—there's more. A lot more." My voice cracked. "A hundred grand, to be exact. If I can't pay in seven days, I'm going to jail."

Léo froze. "A hundred thousand?"

"Yeah. Dad backed some loan for a buddy who bailed, and now they're coming after me. Lawyer says they're done messing around—pay up or face fraud charges."

"Fraud? That's—"

"Bullshit? Tell me about it. But apparently, inheriting his estate means inheriting his messes too." I buried my face in my hands. "I'm so screwed, Léo. Totally screwed."

His hand landed on my shoulder, warm and steady. "Hey, look at me."

I lifted my head, probably looking like a hot mess with smeared makeup.

"A hundred thousand," he said slowly. "That's... doable."

I gaped at him. "You kidding? Might as well be a million. I don't have that kinda cash. Étienne's family does, but they'd probably pop champagne if I ended up in prison."

Something flickered in Léo's eyes—that intense, calculating look I'd seen before.

"What if I said I could help?"

"Help how? You're a vineyard guy." The words came out sharp, but panic had me past caring.

"I've got connections," he said carefully. "People who owe me. Might take a couple days, but—"

"Léo." I grabbed his arm. "I can't drag you into this. It's too much money, too risky. I won't let you—"

"Sera." His voice was quiet but firm. "Let me try. Please."

There was something in his eyes that made me think he wasn't just blowing smoke. But it didn't add up. None of it did.

"Why would you do that for me?" I whispered. "We barely know each other."

He brushed a tear off my cheek with his thumb. "Because you're worth it."

The way he said it hit me hard—not some cheesy line, but like he really meant it. Like he saw something in me worth fighting for.

Before I could push for answers, he was striding off through the vines, all business in a way I'd never seen.

Two days later, I was pacing my cottage like a trapped animal when my phone rang.

"Miss Caldwell? Jonathan Pierce from Pierce, Morrison & Associates."

My heart stopped. "Yeah?"

"I've got some wild news. That debt we talked about? It's been paid in full."

I nearly dropped the phone. "What?"

"Wired this morning. Creditors confirmed it and dropped all charges. You're in the clear, Miss Caldwell."

After hanging up, I stood there stunned for a minute. Then I bolted.

I found Léo in the same vineyard spot, tending vines like it was just another day. Like he hadn't just saved my ass.

"Léo!"

He looked up, a flash of surprise crossing his face before that easy smile kicked in. "Hey, gorgeous. You look happy today."

"The debt," I said, out of breath. "It's gone. Someone paid it all off."

"No way?" He straightened, dusting off his hands. "That's awesome. How'd that happen?"

I eyed him. "I was hoping you'd tell me."

"Me?" He looked genuinely puzzled. "I said I'd make some calls, but I wasn't sure it'd pan out. Guess we got lucky."

"Lucky." I stepped closer. "Léo, you get what you did? You saved everything."

"Just a few calls," he said softly. "Glad it worked."

"Calls that dropped a hundred grand overnight." I was right in his face now, close enough to spot the gold flecks in his blue eyes. "Who the hell are you, really?"

The air between us crackled. Then he cupped my face in his hands.

"I'm someone who cares about you," he said simply.

And then he kissed me.

It wasn't soft or hesitant—it was raw, hungry, like he'd been holding back forever. And damn it, I kissed him back just as hard. Because he'd saved me. Because he saw me when no one else did. Because for the first time in months, I felt alive, not just hanging on.

When we pulled apart, we were both gasping.

"Sera," he whispered against my forehead.

'Oh shit. What the hell did I just do?'

Reality hit like a bucket of ice water. I was married. To a guy who was probably okay, even if I hardly knew him. A guy whose family I was already battling for acceptance.

"I gotta go," I said, backing away.

"Sera, wait—"

"I'm married, Léo. Married."

"To a guy who ditched you here to deal with his family alone," he shot back, an edge in his voice. "A guy who has no clue what you're going through."

He wasn't wrong, but that didn't make this okay.

"I gotta go," I repeated, and this time I walked.

That evening, Henri knocked on my cottage door with a package from Paris.

"From Monsieur Étienne," he said formally.

Inside: a gorgeous silk scarf and a note in Étienne's neat handwriting.

Sera,

Hope you're settling in. I know the family can be a lot, but give 'em time. Been thinking about you—hope you're not too lonely. This reminded me of your eyes.

- Étienne

I stared at the note, guilt twisting my gut. Here was my husband, stuck in Paris fixing his brother's screw-ups, still making time to think of me. To send something sweet.

And me? I'd just made out with a vineyard worker like some cliché in a trashy romance.

'What the hell is wrong with me?'