Avery orders without looking at the menu—she already knows the chef's specialties because she used to meet Charles in the restaurant every week. She asks for a spicy seafood paella and a bottle of Bordeaux. She knows she's not supposed to drink a lot, but a few sips won't hurt the baby. The waiter rushes away to place the order.

She knows that Evan and Leonie's table is directly across the room from hers. She can feel Evan's fiery gaze burning into her, but she refuses to look at him. She daintily unfolds her napkin and places it on her lap.

The waiter returns almost momentarily. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Howel, but the paella you've ordered is sold out for the day. So is the wine."

Avery frowns and glances at the menu. "Okay, I'll have the oysters and mussels," she says. "And you can give me another red wine."

The waiter coughs nervously. "The oysters are actually sold out as well, and I'm afraid it'll be impossible to bring you any wine," he says.

"Is there anything on this menu that isn't sold out?" she asks.

"Of course, ma'am," the waiter says, "But I should warn you we're sold out of all raw seafood, spicy dishes, and alcohol at the moment."

Avery turns to look at Evan. She glares at him, and small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It's clearly not a coincidence that the restaurant is suddenly sold out of all foods that can be dangerous for pregnant women.

"So what else do you have?" she asks sourly.

The waiter lists some meat, and vegetarian options, and Avery shrugs indifferently. "I'll have whatever you most recommend," she says. "May I visit the wine cellar?"

The waiter nods and leads her to the wine cellar. Though most restaurants have their wine cellars in the basement, the Castle in the Air has constructed a climate-controlled cellar below the dining room. The walls are paneled in dark wood, and the temperature and humidity are kept within a narrow range. Bottles of expensive wine line the main part of the room, and a small hallway leads to a private tasting room at the back.

In the tasting room, the restaurant's most distinguished customers have private reserves. Each customer has a glass-paneled cabinet engraved with their surname. A leather-bound logbook holds detailed records of each customer's visits and personal preferences.

"Where's Charles' wine?" Avery asks.

The waiter leads her to a cabinet on the left side of the room. Avery stands on tiptoe to look into the cabinet, and the waiter brings her the logbook. Avery opens the book and flips to the Meyer family page.

"March 17th?" she gasps, "Did he really come on March 17th?"

According to Andrew, Charles was killed on March 13th. If Andrew was telling the truth, there's no way Charles could have come on the 17th.

"Perhaps the note you're looking at refers to Dean Meyer," the waiter suggests.

The disappointment is instant. Avery nods sadly and hands him the book. "Can I buy this bottle of wine?" she asks.

"I'm sorry, but we're not allowed to sell it without the customer's consent," the waiter says.

"I'll pay twice what it's worth," Avery offers.

The waiter shakes his head.

"Can you at least pour me a small cup?" she begs.

The waiter knows that she's one of Charles' friends and eventually agrees. He climbs a wooden ladder and carefully unlocks the cabinet. The sound of high-heeled footsteps echoed through the room and Avery turns to see Leonie.

"It's hard to imagine that you're still so fond of wine during pregnancy," Leonie says. "Don't you know it's bad for the baby?"

Avery turns away and watches the waiter. She's terrified that he might drop the bottle.

"I heard that you looked at my patient file," Leonie says. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Anyway, now you know I'm pregnant too."

"Congratulations," Avery says flatly.

"That rude attitude won't help you, Avery," Leonie says. "Everyone knows that you and Evan will be divorced soon. He's only been dealing with you for the sake of the child you're carrying, but he has another option. There are two possible heirs now."

"So?" Avery asks.

"So the playing field is finally even," Leonie says. "You've put me through a lot of shit, but I finally stand a chance. Who do you think will have the last laugh?"

Avery slowly turns to face Leonie again. "It won't be you," she says.

"That kind of pride makes you look foolish," Leonie says. "You're not special; you don't have anything that I don't. You may think Evan loves you, but he asked me out to dinner while you were trapped in the hospital."

"There's nothing wrong with my husband asking a friend out to dinner," Avery says with an exaggerated shrug.

"Don't be stupid," Leonie says. "Everyone knows that men like to take up with a mistress when their wives are pregnant."

"You're pregnant, too," Avery reminds her.

Leonie flushes slightly. "He's had to look at your face every day for years," Leonie snaps. "If I were him, I'd certainly be sick of it. Why else would a man refuse to have dinner with his wife when they're already in the same restaurant?"

Avery smirks at Leonie's misunderstanding of the situation. "Are you suggesting I insist on dining with him?" Avery asks.

"Good luck with that," Leonie says.

"You're so confident, Leonie," Avery says tauntingly. "Why don't we make it a competition? We can both invite him to dine, and we'll see who he chooses in the end."

Leonie looks panicked. "No," she says, "I already won. He asked me to have dinner, and that's what we're going to do."

"I thought you just said that the playing field is even," Avery says. "Are you scared you don't have what it takes?"

Leonie grits her teeth and clenched her fists, "Evan won't go with you," she shouts.

Avery shrugs. "We'll see about that," she says, "What's mine is mine, and I don't let people steal from me."

Before Leonie can reply, Avery stalks out of the cellar and climbs the spiral stairs up to the main restaurant. When the two women reenter the restaurant, Evan stares at them. As they separate, Avery can feel Evan's eyes following her across the room. She sits down at her table and smiles coldly at Leonie.

She can hear Leonie's high-pitched voice from across the restaurant. "I just went to the wine cellar, and you'll never believe what I saw," Leonie says. "Avery was trying to buy Charles Meyer' wine. I never wanted to believe the rumors, but she seems obsessed with him. She offered to pay double the bottle's worth."

Out of the corner of her eye, Avery sees Evan's face darkened. She holds the small goblet of wine and swirls it under her nose. It's port wine, and it smells sweet and heavy. She closes her eyes and feels a tear slid down her cheek.