chapter 44
Elena's POV:
I watched Isabella's face cycle through a series of emotions as she clutched the formula notebook.
The morning light streaming through the studio windows caught the delicate crystal bottles on the shelves, casting fractured shadows across her face that rendered her expression unreadable, obscured in the shifting patterns of light and dark.
Her fingers traced the precise measurements I'd written, the careful notations about temperature and timing. "Nobody just gives away something like this."
I settled into one of the leather chairs near the blending station, studying her.
"Because this fragrance was always meant for you, Isabella," I said simply, my voice carrying calm. "I never sell the fragrances I create for specific individuals—each one is a unique composition."
Her eyes widened, the crystal bottle trembling slightly in her hands. "A custom fragrance? No wonder I..." She trailed off, color rising in her cheeks as understanding dawned. "That explains why it feels so perfect."
"But we didn't even know each other then," Isabella said slowly, suspicion creeping into her voice. "You create custom fragrances for all your potential rivals?"
I shrugged, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"Only the ones whose work I admire. I'd seen your perfume collections at various launches. It's simply professional courtesy between perfumers, Isabella."
Her expression shifted through several emotions—pride warring with desire, stubbornness fighting against want. She straightened her spine, lifting her chin in a gesture that was both defensive and dignified.
"Well, I won't take it for free," she said stiffly, the words seeming to cost her.
She set the bottle carefully on the counter, squaring her shoulders with the air of someone making a business decision.
"There's a collaboration opportunity I could introduce you to—Harrods is looking for an exclusive perfume line for their new luxury beauty floor. Whether you can secure it or not will be entirely up to you and your talent, but at least I can open the door."
I wasn't one for false modesty, especially not when opportunity was exactly what I needed. "Thank you, Isabella. I appreciate the introduction."
She nodded curtly, tucking the formula and bottle into her designer bag with careful movements. As she turned toward the door, I called out, "Isabella—"
She spun around so quickly she nearly stumbled, clutching her bag protectively against her chest. "You gave it to me," she said sharply, her eyes narrowing. "No take-backs. That's not how gifts work."
A helpless laugh escaped me at her fierce protectiveness over the fragrance.
"I'm not taking anything back. I just think I can answer your question now," I said softly. "From earlier."
Isabella's brow furrowed in confusion. "What question?"
"You asked why you couldn't have what I have with Sebastian, despite trying for years." I rose from my chair, moving to stand before her.
The morning light fell between us like a curtain of gold, and I could see every subtle shift in her expression as I spoke. "The answer is simple, Isabella. You never actually loved him."
The words hung in the air between us. Isabella went very still, her knuckles whitening where she gripped her bag. She knew exactly who I meant.
"What gives you the right to say that?" she began, her voice low and dangerous.
"Because when you hear about the marriage of someone you truly love, there's no heartbreak beneath the shock. Just... indignation." I tilted my head, studying her frozen expression. "You were angry about losing, not about losing him. There's a difference."
I softened my tone, adding with a slight smile, "Besides, you clearly love that perfume more than you ever loved Sebastian."
Isabella stood motionless for a long moment, the silence stretching between us until it became almost tangible. Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet mine directly, her expression unreadable.
"You are very clever, Elena Ross," she said quietly, each word deliberate.
"You're right. I wanted to be with Sebastian for the status, the security, the power. Our childhood engagement made everyone assume I'd be Lady Vane one day—I grew up with that expectation. I didn't want to lose what I'd always thought was mine."
She shifted her weight, a bitter smile touching her lips. "And I needed it. The Morrison family has many branches, and mine... we're not the main line. Marrying Sebastian would have elevated my parents, my siblings, and given us more weight in family decisions, more respect at gatherings. I wasn't just fighting for myself."
She paused, adjusting her grip on her bag. "But I see things clearly now. The question is—do you?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"You read others so well, Elena. What about yourself?" Isabella's eyes sharpened, pinning me in place. "Damian mentioned your... circumstances. A year of captivity before this sudden marriage."
My breath caught in my throat as she continued, her voice deceptively gentle. "So tell me—are you marrying Sebastian Vane because you love him, or because you have no choice?"
I remained silent, unable to form words.
The absurdity of it struck me—here I was, on my first day as a married woman, discussing love with Sebastian's former fiancée in my perfume studio. The situation held a surreal, almost farcical quality that made my head spin.
Isabella didn't seem to require an answer.
She tilted her head slightly, studying me with those knowing green eyes before her lips curved into a smile that held equal parts sympathy and amusement.
"Well, regardless of which truth you prefer, the fact remains that you're married now. Perhaps you should simply embrace whichever answer you refuse to acknowledge and make the most of it."
She paused at the door, one perfectly manicured hand on the handle. "After all, it's not as if you have any other choice, do you?"
The question hung in the air long after her heels had clicked away down the corridor, leaving me alone with the competing fragrances and my tumultuous thoughts.
I stood there for several minutes, still digesting her words, before a small scoff escaped my lips.
Was she implying that I'd fallen in love with Sebastian?
The very thought was absurd. It had to be that I'd played my role too convincingly—yes, that was it.
I'd simply been too good at pretending to be the blushing bride, and Isabella had mistaken performance for reality. The alternative was unthinkable.
I made my way to the leather sofa tucked into the corner of the studio, sinking into its embrace with a weariness that seemed to emanate from my very bones.
I scrolled through my phone with the mechanical precision of someone desperately seeking distraction, my thumb moving in practiced sweeps across the screen while my mind churned with thoughts I'd rather not examine.
The next second, my finger froze mid-swipe as Sebastian's name blazed across the trending headlines.
The entertainment news exploded across every platform, dominating social media feeds with headlines crafted for maximum scandal: "Vane Heir Caught in Steamy Rendezvous" and "Sebastian Vane's Secret Love Interest Revealed."
The accompanying photographs were grainy and deliberately ambiguous, showing Sebastian in what appeared to be a dimly lit private booth at some exclusive venue, leaning toward a tall, elegant woman whose face was obscured by shadows and camera angles.