Chapter 110 Chapter 110
“With her temper, she won't cooperate,” Nísia snorted. “That dress will end up in the closet. Dad is just looking for trouble.”
Trying to change the subject, Nísia mentioned her trump card for the evening. “I used one of Aunt Josiane's strange formulas from her manual. The scent is unique, Mom... almost unsettling.” I wish you could smell it, but because of the musk in the formula...
“Josiane was always a rebel,” Rosana dismissed her daughter's concerns. “She created what no one else dared to. If the perfume is strange, it's original. And Sasha loves originality. If you impress her, your entry into the Fragrance Alliance will be guaranteed.”
The Fragrance Alliance — the “Olympus” of professional perfumers. Joining that select group of less than ten people per year was Nísia's lifelong dream. It would be the definitive proof that she was superior to Katherine in something that money couldn't buy: talent.
What Nísia didn't know was that the “uniqueness” of that formula, written in immature handwriting years ago, held secrets that could destroy her night of triumph before the first toast.
While Nísia lost herself in dreams of greatness with the Fragrance Alliance, one doubt still haunted her.
“Mom... are you sure Katherine doesn't know anything about perfumes?” asked Nísia, adjusting the clasp on her dress.
Rosana Oliveira made a dismissive gesture with her hand, as if warding off a ridiculous thought. "She may have picked up a few basics here and there, but to be as proficient as you? Impossible. After what happened in the past, her mother made a drastic decision: never to teach her the craft.
Nísia let out a wicked giggle, her ego inflated by her mother's assurance. “Josiane Kamikado is a legend. The world expects her daughter to be a prodigy. Imagine the embarrassment if, at today's banquet, everyone discovers that Katherine Lutz is nothing more than a complete amateur?”
Rosana did not respond, but her eyes sparkled with silent satisfaction.
At the entrance to the mansion, the reception was different. The security guard, who had previously ignored her or treated her coldly, now jumped from his post to open the gate with a smile that bordered on servility.
“Welcome back, Miss Katherine!” he exclaimed.
Katherine didn't even glance at him. She crossed the garden with her usual indifference, her eyes fixed on her cell phone. Heitor was already waiting for her, overflowing with a joy that seemed to be the only genuine thing in that house.
“Sister! Sit here, sit here!” Heitor pulled a cushion into the sunny hallway.
Katherine sat cross-legged, resting her chin on her hand with a patience she reserved only for her younger brother. She looked at Heitor's homemade flying device—a mixture of sticks and paper that looked like it was about to fall apart. As soon as he tried to start the little motor, one of the wings hung loose to the side.
“Oh, no!” Heitor lamented, his shoulders slumping.
Katherine let out a short laugh, but her eyes sparkled with an old memory. “Wait,” she said.
She stood up, broke a dry branch from a nearby pot, and walked over to a large tree that dominated the garden. Heitor followed her curiously as she began digging into the soft earth near the roots. Ten seconds later, the tip of the branch hit something metallic.
A small iron box, corroded by time but still sturdy, emerged from the ground.
“What is it, Kath?” Heitor's eyes widened.
She blew away the soot, typed in a four-digit combination, and the lid popped open with a sharp click. Inside were small precision tools, shining like new in the sun. Katherine chose a tiny screwdriver and, with quick, precise movements, tightened the screw on Heitor's toy.
“Sis... when did you hide this here?” the boy asked, open-mouthed.
“When this tree was still a seedling,” she replied casually.
“But Dad said this tree is thirteen years old! You were only six?!”
Katherine shrugged, her hands working with a dexterity that did not seem to belong to an ordinary student. “Back then, I liked to take apart and fix everything I saw. My mother didn't like me playing with ‘dangerous’ tools, so I buried them here.” I didn't think they'd still be here."
She handed the device back to Heitor. This time, the little machine staggered, regained its balance, and flew across the yard under the boy's amazed gaze.
In the distance, on the upper balcony, Daniel Lutz watched the scene. For a brief second, a rare and genuine tenderness flashed across his face as he watched his children playing. But then the weight of the truth hit him. Katherine was six years old and already had the mind of an engineer, the same mind he had tried to mold and then discard.
A complex and confusing emotion took hold of Daniel. He realized that he had never really known the daughter he was now trying to use as a bargaining chip. Unable to bear the weight of his own gaze, he turned his back and entered the house, fleeing from the sunlight that seemed to reveal too much of his flaws.
“Have Katherine change her clothes now,” Daniel Lutz ordered one of the servants, without even looking in his daughter's direction. His tone brooked no reply; he spoke like a sovereign giving an instruction to a subject.
The employee nodded and hurried toward the sunlit hallway. Meanwhile, in the living room, Nísia watched everything motionless. Her eyes, however, were not on Daniel, but fixed on the small rusty iron box at Katherine's feet.
That box seemed like a monument to her own exclusion. It didn't matter that Nísia occupied the rooms of the mansion, that she used the surnames, or that she was present every day; the garden, the land, and the secrets of that house belonged to Katherine. The iron box mocked her, reminding her that, in that lineage, she was just a passing guest.
As Daniel should have expected, the servant returned with the refusal. Katherine would not change her clothes and had no interest in parading alongside her father as a trophy of convenience.
Daniel felt his anger rising, but before he could explode, Nísia stepped forward. Her smile was sweet, but her words carried a refined venom.
“Father, don't force her,” said Nísia, in a falsely sympathetic voice. “Your sister must be exhausted from preparing for the chemistry competition. Besides, today's banquet is exclusively for fragrance experts. Katherine doesn't understand anything about that world... she would find it all deadly boring. She has no place there, Father.” Don't force her to go through this embarrassment.
Nísia's youthful energy couldn't mask the resentment that vibrated in her voice. Daniel, a man who had spent his life deciphering hidden intentions at business tables, read Nísia's message instantly.
She's useless to our perfume business. She'll embarrass you in front of Sasha.