Master of Lust-Chapter 326 - -

Chapter - 326

Three days later.

The warehouse was a hive of activity. The trucks were loaded. The menus were printed. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a boning knife.

Sharon stood by the loading dock, holding a clipboard. She hated the clipboard. It felt like a shield made of paper. She wanted her gun, but it was hidden in a crate of napkins in the System Inventory.

"Crate 4, to the left!" she barked at a pair of porters. "That’s the crystal! If you break it, I break you!"

"A bit aggressive for a logistics manager, Eva," a voice drawled from the doorway.

Sharon spun around. Standing there was a man she didn’t recognize, but immediately hated. He was short, oily, and wore a suit that was trying too hard to be Italian. He held a tablet and looked at the warehouse with a sneer of professional disdain.

"Who are you?" Sharon demanded.

"Franz Gruber," the man said, stepping inside. "Warner Estate Liaison. I’m here for the final inspection. Health, safety, and... loyalty."

He looked at Sharon, his eyes lingering too long on her chest before moving to her face. "You’re new. The old manager was... older. Less leggy."

Sharon fought the urge to throat-punch him. "Management restructuring. Can I see your credentials?"

Gruber laughed. "My credentials are that I can cancel your contract with a phone call, sweetheart. Where is Vancroft? I want to see the menu."

"Chef is busy," Sharon said, stepping in his path.

"Chef is never too busy for me," Gruber said, pushing past her.

Sharon tapped her earpiece. "Rick. You’ve got a visitor. Code Red. It’s a suit."

"Send him in," Rick’s voice came back, sounding calm. "I’m just finishing the garnish."

Gruber marched into the kitchen. He stopped.

The kitchen was spotless. The staff moved with terrified, clockwork precision. And in the center, Rick—wearing the face of Henri Vancroft—was plating a dish with tweezers.

"Henri!" Gruber boomed. "You look terrible! Put on some weight, have you?"

Rick didn’t look up. He placed a single micro-herb on a scallop. "Franz. You look like a weeping sore in a cheap suit. What do you want?"

Gruber bristled. "Watch your tone, cook. I’m here to check the inventory. Special request from Mr. Warner. He wants to ensure the ’special vintage’ is secure."

Rick froze. The Special Vintage.

He didn’t know what that was. It wasn’t on the manifest. It wasn’t in the System notes.

Gruber smiled, seeing the hesitation. "Don’t tell me you forgot, Henri? The ’92 Screaming Eagle? The six bottles Silas bought at auction last month? They were entrusted to your cellar for safekeeping."

Rick’s mind raced. If he didn’t have the wine, the cover was blown. He checked his Inventory. He had the Grapes of Wrath nano-wine, but he didn’t have a specific vintage of Screaming Eagle.

[System Shop > Black Market > Alcohol]

[Item: Screaming Eagle Cabernet 1992 (Counterfeit - High Quality)]

[Cost: $15,000 per bottle.]

"Buy six," Rick thought frantically. "Now."

Six bottles materialized in his Inventory.

"Of course I didn’t forget, you imbecile," Rick scoffed, wiping his hands on a towel. "They are in the climate-controlled lockbox. Eva! Bring the case!"

Sharon appeared at the door, looking confused. Rick made a subtle hand gesture. Inventory Transfer.

He grabbed a generic metal briefcase from the counter—one he’d been using for props—and passed it to Sharon. As their hands touched, he mentally transferred the bottles from the pocket dimension into the case. The case suddenly became heavy.

Sharon’s eyes widened, but she didn’t flinch. She took the case and set it on the table. She opened it.

Six dusty bottles of Screaming Eagle lay nestled in foam.

Gruber walked over. He inspected the labels. He checked the foil. He looked suspicious.

"Open one," Gruber said.

"Excuse me?" Rick asked, his voice dangerous. "These are fifty-thousand-dollar bottles. You want me to pop a cork for a health inspector?"

"Quality control," Gruber smirked. "Silas insists. He thinks someone might have swapped them. Maybe you drank them, Henri? You always did like the sauce."

This was a test. A trap. If Rick refused, he was suspicious. If he opened it, and it tasted fake...

Rick grabbed a corkscrew. "Fine. But you’re explaining the missing bottle to Silas."

He opened the bottle. The cork popped. He poured a splash into a tasting glass.

Gruber picked it up. He swirled it. He sniffed it. He took a sip.

Rick held his breath. The System said ’High Quality Counterfeit’, but was it Silas Warner quality? 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Gruber swished it in his mouth. He frowned. He swallowed.

"Well?" Rick demanded.

Gruber smiled. "Exquisite. Notes of cassis and... is that tobacco?"

"It’s oak, you peasant," Rick snapped, snatching the glass back. "Now get out of my kitchen. I have a banquet to prep."

Gruber wiped his mouth. "Fine. You pass. But remember, Henri... security at the Conclave will be tighter than usual. Biometric scans at the gate. DNA verification. If anything... anything... is out of place, the order is shoot on sight."

He turned to leave, winking at Sharon. "See you at the party, Eva."

As the door swung shut, Rick slumped against the counter. The mask felt hot and heavy.

"That was close," Sharon exhaled. "Too close. ’Special Vintage’? What else don’t we know?"

"We know enough," Rick said, re-corking the bottle. "We know they’re paranoid. And we know they’re expecting trouble."

He looked at the wine. He had an idea.

"Nadia," Rick called into his earpiece.

"I’m here. I heard everything."

"I need you to hack the label printer. I need to relabel these bottles."

"Why?"

"Because," Rick said, picking up the vial of Grapes of Wrath nano-swarm he had bought earlier. "Gruber just gave me an idea. Why spike the random wine? Why not spike the best wine? The wine Silas specifically asked for?"

He poured the nano-swarm liquid into the open bottle of Screaming Eagle. It dissolved instantly, invisible.

"We’re going to feed Silas his own poison," Rick said. "And we’re going to do it with a smile."

Later that night.

Rick stood on the roof of the warehouse, looking out at the valley. The stars were bright and cold.

He checked his status.

[Rick Smith - Level 17]

[Wealth: $3,450,000]

[Quest: The Winter Conclave]

[Time Remaining: 10 Days.]

He had spent millions. He had risked everything. He was walking into a trap set by a man with infinite resources and a grudge the size of a mountain.

Sharon walked out onto the roof, handing him a beer.

"We’re really doing this," she said. It wasn’t a question.

"We are."

"And after? If we survive?"

Rick looked at her. The moonlight softened the hard lines of her face. She wasn’t just a partner anymore. She was... complicated.

"After," Rick said, "we take that vacation. The one without the guns."

"I’ll hold you to that."

Suddenly, Rick’s phone buzzed. Not the burner. The System phone interface in his head.

[System Alert: Anomaly Detected.]

[Item: ’The Black Laptop’ (Real Version)]

[Location: Moving.]

Rick stood up straight. "The real laptop. The one Marnus had. The one Johnson said was on a server in the Caymans."

"What about it?" Sharon asked.

"It’s not in the Caymans," Rick said, staring at the map overlay in his vision. "It’s here. In Switzerland. It’s moving toward the Chateau."

"Silas is bringing it in physically?"

"He doesn’t trust the cloud anymore," Rick realized. "After Valerius hacked him? After we broke into the Tower? He’s air-gapping everything. He’s bringing the data home to the vault."

Rick grinned. This changed everything. They didn’t just have to steal an ’old artifact’. They could steal the entire digital empire.

"Change of plans," Rick said, crushing the beer can. "We’re not just serving dinner. We’re robbing the bank."

He turned to Sharon.

"Get the chainsaw," he said. "I have an ice swan to carve."