Chapter 111 Chapter 111
Daniel's gaze turned icy as it settled on Katherine. He expected an explosion, a protest, or perhaps a defense of her intellect. But Katherine just stood there, closing her toolbox with a sharp click. She didn't need words to reaffirm her worth; her mere existence seemed to diminish Daniel's arrogance.
Daniel clenched his fists. How many times would that girl defy him? He sought a way to break her, but realized, with growing bitterness, that the “young lady of the Lutzes” no longer belonged to him, nor to that house.
Katherine Lutz walked calmly, her hands in her pockets and a smile that was not quite warm, but overflowed with sharp confidence.
“Perfumery?” her voice echoed with slight irony. “Sounds interesting. Why shouldn't I go?”
Daniel Lutz's face contorted. He expected resistance, not enigmatic agreement. Nísia felt her blood boil. Katherine's calmness was a personal insult to her anxiety.
“Why are you going?” Nísia fired back, her voice rising an octave. “Do you want to humiliate yourself? You know nothing about fragrances, and you're the daughter of who you are! How will you react when they demand talent you don't have? You're selfish, Katherine! You only think about your own satisfaction and forget the family name!”
Nísia spoke with feigned righteousness, her chest heaving under her expensive dress. Heitor Lutz, however, couldn't take it anymore. The boy stepped forward, protecting his sister with the courage that only innocence can provide.
“You have no right to talk to her like that!” Heitor shouted, his neck stiff with indignation.
Katherine felt a warmth in her chest at her brother's gesture, but her face remained a mask of ice. She looked Nísia up and down with an indifference that hurt more than any insult.
“It's not up to you to define who I am, Nísia,” she replied coldly. "Instead of wasting your energy trying to belittle me, focus on improving yourself.
You'll need it."
With an affectionate pat on Heitor's head, Katherine walked away without looking back. Daniel Lutz remained silent, watching his daughter leave with deep, calculating eyes, while Nísia, on the verge of tears of rage, swore to herself that tonight would be Katherine's ruin.
At 6:30 p.m., the scene shifted to the West Wing. The huge parking lot was teeming with luxury sedans, and the air was already permeated with a complex mixture of expensive scents.
Nísia moved through the gallery as if it were her kingdom. She distilled technical terms, shared experiences, and reaped praise. When three veteran perfumers learned her age, the chorus of “prodigy” fed her thirst for recognition.
But then, the air changed.
“My God, Sasha Meneguel has arrived.”
Nísia turned and saw Andrei escorting the renowned foreign perfumer. Sasha was not wearing extravagant silk or flashy jewelry; she wore a simple, impeccably tailored suit. But the aura she exuded was overwhelming. It was a natural elegance, a temperament so refined that Nísia felt, for three seconds, suddenly small.
However, ambition spoke louder. With the help of Cicero Arbex, Nísia was introduced.
“This is our pearl, Miss Nísia,” announced Cicero.
Sasha smiled politely, praising the young woman's competence. Nísia seized the opportunity, striking up a fluid conversation, desperately trying to mimic the grace of the woman in front of her. Meanwhile, Daniel Lutz, sitting at a nearby table, puffed out his chest with strategic pride as he spoke to his friends:
“That's my goddaughter, Nísia. A researcher, internationally awarded... a rare talent, like her mother.”
In the distance, under a tree, Dandará watched the scene with a skeptical look. Nísia approached triumphantly, dragging Sasha along as if they were longtime friends.
“Dandará, look! This is Sasha. She has a wonderful personality, don't you think?” Nísia spoke with forced intimacy, trying to mark her territory.
Sasha Meneguel maintained a slight, diplomatic smile, without revealing that she barely knew the young woman who was introducing her. To an outside observer, Nísia was the star of the evening. But in the shadows, the true heir to the legendary Kamikado sense of smell had not yet made her move.
Nísia watched the group approach with a predatory gleam in her eyes. Seeing Katherine between Anastasia and Octavio only fueled her desire to humiliate her. She leaned toward Sasha, her voice overflowing with false modesty:
“Sasha, look, my cousin has arrived.” Her mother was a legendary perfumer, you know? Katherine is her number one fan, although... well, she didn't exactly inherit the family talent.“
Sasha Meneguel handed her glass to a waiter, her expression suddenly becoming alert, but maintaining a mask of diplomatic indifference. ”Is it her? Which one?"
Nísia smiled, feeling on top of the world. She led Sasha toward Katherine as if she were taking a queen to meet a commoner. To Nísia, Katherine's calligraphy or her Primordial status didn't matter; in the field of fragrances—the field Nísia had chosen to reign—Katherine would be exposed as a useless fraud. She wanted to see the glint of envy in her cousin's eyes. She wanted Katherine to feel the weight of being “nobody” in front of the world's greatest perfumer.
An eye for an eye, thought Nísia. You made me unhappy, now I'm going to wipe you out.
But when they stopped in front of the group, Nísia's triumph evaporated in a second.
Her arm, which had been guiding Sasha, was suddenly empty. Before Nísia could say the first word of her rehearsed introduction, Sasha Meneguel broke through all her aristocratic politeness. With a smile that lit up her face in a way it hadn't that night, she lunged forward and wrapped Katherine Lutz in a warm and genuine hug.
“You naughty girl! You finally showed up!” Sasha's voice, laden with deep affection and a vibrant accent, echoed through the gallery.
The silence that followed was deafening. Anastasia and her husband froze; they were about to introduce the guest of honor to their children, but they seemed to be interrupting a family reunion.
Nísia was stunned. Her eyes widened as her brain tried to process the impossible. Katherine gave Sasha a relaxed pat on the shoulder and turned to the Arbexes with the calmness of someone introducing a common neighbor.
“Uncle, aunt... this is my friend, Sasha Meneguel. But you can call her Samara.”
Sasha laughed, beaming. “I met you earlier, but I was eager for Kath to do the honors.” She then looked at Anastasia with maternal affection. “Has this child been giving you a hard time at home? She can be a little difficult to deal with.”
Anastasia, recovering from the shock, smiled back. “How could that be possible? Kath is a relief to us. I adore her. But... how do you two know each other?”