Chapter 691

Two years later.

France.

The lavender fields of Provence stretched out under the summer sun like a dazzling purple sea.

A gentle breeze swept through, causing waves of flowers to ripple.

The air was thick with their rich, distinctive fragrance.

Sunlight filtered through thin clouds, casting a soft golden glow over the endless purple blooms.

Standing amidst them felt like breathing in the very essence of lavender.

A small group walked slowly along a path through the fields.

"Mr. Sullivan, it is a great honor for us to partner with the Sullivan Group," said Monsieur Girand, a man in his sixties, gesturing politely as he led the way in French. "The global influence of your corporation is undeniable. We are deeply encouraged that you have chosen our wine business."

Liam Sullivan stood tall and imposing in a finely tailored dark suit.

Sunglasses hid his deep-set eyes.

His thin lips were pressed together, and he exuded an aura of formidable business acumen.

"You are too modest, Monsieur Girand," Liam replied in flawless French, his tone even. "The Sullivan Group only partners with enterprises that show genuine promise. Your company's capabilities merit this consideration."

"Just ahead is the vineyard," Monsieur Girand pointed into the distance. "Our finest grapes are cultivated there."

"I have heard much about it," Liam's lips curved into a faint, polite smile. "Seeing it in person today certainly lives up to the reputation."

"You are too kind, Mr. Sullivan," Monsieur Girand beamed. "Your personal visit is the true honor for us."

"Haha, where are you taking me? It smells amazing!"

A clear, bell-like laugh suddenly floated from another part of the field, light and filled with unadulterated joy.

"Shh, you'll see in a moment," a man's voice answered, gentle and amused, laced with affection.

"Allen, even if you don't tell me, I think I can guess!" The woman, whose eyes were playfully covered, laughed sweetly, her voice brimming with anticipation.

"Go on, then. What's your guess?"

The man and woman moved slowly through the sea of purple.

The man was tall, the woman petite and delicate.

Their figures walking side-by-side looked perfectly harmonious against the vast expanse of lavender.

Liam's steps halted abruptly.

Behind his sunglasses, his dark eyes sharpened instantly, locking onto the two distant figures like a hawk.

When that familiar silhouette came into view, his pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

Her?

That laughter...

A distant corner of his memory stirred faintly.

But the distance was too great.

The sound was intermittent, impossible to make out clearly.

He could only watch as the man and woman moved further away.

"Ah, that is my youngest son, Allen. He just returned to Provence yesterday," Monsieur Girand explained quickly, noticing Liam's gaze.

He looked into the distance, a fond smile touching his eyes. "Time flies. It seems I may be a grandfather soon."

Liam gave a slight nod.

But his gaze remained fixed, relentlessly tracking that graceful figure.

Even though it was just a retreating back.

He was almost certain—

It was Vivian Bennett.

Had she not died two years ago?

Had she been hiding from him all this time?