chapter 95
Elena's POV:
I reached across the space between us and caught Sebastian's hand before he could fully retreat into that cold, calculating place where violence lived.
His fingers were rigid beneath mine, tendons corded with barely restrained fury, but I held on until he finally looked at me.
"Let me handle her," I said quietly, my voice steadier than I'd expected.
"Vivienne is mine to deal with. But Henry..." My throat tightened around his name. "I need you to find out what really happened to him. The truth about how he died."
Sebastian's hand turned beneath mine, capturing my fingers in a grip that was both gentle and possessive. He lifted them to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle as if sealing a vow.
"You don't need to dirty your hands with her, Elena. That's what I'm for."
I shook my head, surprising myself with the fierce certainty that bloomed in my chest. "No. She took something from me with her own hands. I want to take it back the same way."
His brow furrowed, confusion replacing some of the murderous intent in his eyes.
"What else did she take? "
"The Madame Flower series." The words fell between us like stones into still water, sending ripples of understanding across his features. "It was mine, Sebastian. She knows I'm coming for it now. "
"She thinks that by throwing mud at me—spreading these vile murder accusations—she can slow down my progress, distract me from reclaiming what's mine."
I laughed, short and bitter. "She's wrong."
Sebastian's expression cycled through shock, renewed fury, and something that looked almost like grief.
"The Madame Flower series is yours?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "The collection that made her a household name, that launched her into the industry elite—that was your work?"
I nodded, unable to trust my voice. The old wound throbbed fresh, as if speaking the truth aloud had torn away years of scar tissue.
"Jesus Christ." He pulled me against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other splayed protectively over the small of my back. "How much more did they take from you? How much more did I not know about?"
"It's in the past," I murmured against his shirt, breathing in the familiar scent of him—cedar and dark spice and something uniquely Sebastian that had become synonymous with safety despite everything.
"Now I will get it back. I want my name on my work. I want the world to know who really created those fragrances."
He pulled back enough to study my face, and I saw the exact moment he understood that this wasn't about revenge—not entirely. This was about reclaiming pieces of myself that had been stolen, about standing in my own light instead of watching from the shadows while Vivienne basked in glory built on my talent.
"Tell me your plan," he said simply, and the easy acceptance in his voice made my heart skip.
No questioning whether I was capable, no suggestions that he handle it for me. Just immediate, unwavering support.
I took a breath, organizing thoughts that had been swirling since I'd seen that forum post. "When I created the Madame Flower series, I was still in school. I used the chemistry lab after hours—had special permission from Professor Chen because of my advanced coursework."
The memory was bittersweet, those late nights surrounded by beakers and essential oils, chasing the perfect balance of notes. "He saw every stage of development, even helped me with some of the more complex molecular structures. He could testify that the work was mine."
Sebastian's thumb traced absent circles on my hip, grounding me in the present. "But?"
"But Vivienne's family had connections. After she stole my formulas and launched the series, Professor Chen suddenly went very quiet. I heard later that she'd promised to pave the way for his daughter—also a perfumer—in the industry."
"And now?"
"Now I'm Onyx." The name still felt strange on my tongue, this new identity I'd carved out for myself.
"I've proven myself without trading on anyone else's work or connections. Professor Chen must have seen the news, the collaboration with Beaumont, the Metamorphosis series selling out in minutes. He's a smart man. He'll know which side holds the future."
Sebastian's expression was thoughtful. "You're going to offer him what Vivienne promised, but better?"
"I can," I confirmed.
The plan felt solid in my mind, pieces clicking into place with satisfying precision.
Tomorrow, I would reach out to Professor Chen. Tomorrow, I would begin taking back what was mine.
But the universe, it seemed, had other plans.
The next afternoon found me sitting across from Professor Chen in a small café near the university, watching him stir sugar into his coffee with hands that trembled slightly.
He'd aged in the years since I'd last seen him—more silver in his hair, deeper lines around his eyes—but I would have recognized him anywhere.
He'd been one of the few bright spots in those dark years, encouraging my talent when everyone else seemed determined to suppress it.
"Elena," he said finally, setting down his spoon with deliberate care. "I wondered if you would come."
"You knew I would." I kept my voice neutral, professional. This wasn't about old affections or missed opportunities. This was business. "We both know why I'm here."
He sighed, suddenly looking every one of his sixty-odd years. "I know what you want me to say. But I can't—"
"Can't? Or won't?" The words came out sharper than intended, pregnancy hormones making my emotions harder to control.
I forced myself to soften. "Professor Chen, I'm not asking you to lie. Just tell the truth. You saw me create those formulas. You know—"