Chapter 114 Chapter 114
Katherine ate quietly, listening to the compliments of her grandparents across the table who, after appreciating the aroma, praised its uniqueness. Emily Marcus, wanting to support her eldest son's pretensions, took Nísia's perfume bottle and sprayed it generously on herself. She inhaled deeply, praising the fragrance with exaggerated enthusiasm.
The dense aroma quickly overpowered the other smells in the room and reached Katherine's nose. In an instant, a slight expression of concentration appeared on her face—her keen senses detected something hidden.
Simultaneously, confusion appeared on the faces of several perfumers at the next table.
Someone muttered that the smell was “strange,” but couldn't define the reason for that technical discomfort.
Sasha Meneguel, however, seemed to pale. She turned her head sharply, interrupted Nísia's speech, and asked her directly, in a voice laden with authority:
“What are the main ingredients of this perfume?”
Nísia felt a flash of triumph and, with a calculated smile, began to dictate the components with theatrical slowness: “Half a measure of Golden Fragrance and half an ounce of Bergamot mixed with Stone Mushroom Musk...” She paused dramatically, keeping the remaining ingredients under a veil of mystery.
After all, the combination was bizarrely exotic. “And, of course, a part of my exclusive fragrance essence. That's how the magic happened.”
She believed that by using the word “exclusive,” even a legend like Sasha Meneguel would back down out of respect for professional secrecy. But fate had other plans.
The silence in the room was suddenly broken by a dry, persistent cough. Emily Marcus, who had bathed in the fragrance minutes before, brought her hand to her forehead, her face visibly pale.
“I feel dizzy... something's not right,” she complained, her voice faltering.
Katherine Lutz, who was watching the scene with analytical coldness, stood up abruptly. Her voice cut through the buzz like a scalpel:
“Take her to the hospital. Now.”
The guests exchanged confused glances, but Sasha Meneguel also stood up, her expression somber as she stared at Nísia's bottle.
“This perfume is toxic,” Sasha declared, the authority in her voice silencing the room. “If inhaled in large quantities, it causes respiratory collapse and dizziness. Call an ambulance.”
Nísia felt the floor disappear beneath her feet.
“Impossible!” she cried, her voice shrill with panic. “This is the correct formula! I followed every step!”
“Answer honestly,” Sasha took a step forward, her eyes flashing. “Does this mixture contain quaker buttons and hemlock? Yes or no?”
Nísia's pupils contracted. These were lethal plants that required almost impossible chemical manipulation to neutralize. She had blindly trusted Josiane's manual, believing that her aunt's genius would ignore the risks. But the dosage written on that paper was twice the safe limit.
While Emily was being rescued, panic set in. Daniel Lutz, feeling the weight of the scandal on the family name, restrained his fury and attempted a feeble defense:
“She is young... in her thirst for innovation, she did not measure the consequences. It was a mistake of youth.”
But the mood was ruined. João Arbex took control, his icy expression signaling that the gala evening had turned into an emergency scene. However, while everyone crowded around Emily, João's eyes searched for Katherine and noticed that she had discreetly disappeared.
Katherine ran to her room, her heart beating at a practical pace. From under the bed, she pulled out an old wooden box. Opening it, she revealed handmade crystal vials, unlabeled but emanating an aura of technical purity. She chose a golden vial and hurried back.
In the West Wing hallway, she intercepted Sasha and, in one swift motion, handed her the vial, whispering precise instructions into her mentor's ear. Sasha nodded, her eyes shining with deep recognition.
Returning to the center of the hall, Sasha raised Katherine's golden vial.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm.
This is a refreshing elixir that I always carry with me. It has immediate detoxifying properties. Please accept a spray."
Sasha sprayed the air around her first, and soon the servants began to spread the purifying mist throughout the hall. Emily, still lying down and fighting nausea, gasped for air as she smelled the new scent.
“This... this is life,” she begged. “Give it to me, quick!”
As she inhaled the golden essence, Emily's body instantly relaxed. The stiffness in her shoulders disappeared and her eyebrows softened in a sigh of relief.
“Finally,” Emily whispered, closing her eyes. “The pain... it's gone.”
The hall, once contaminated by Nísia's dangerous mistake, was now filled with Katherine Lutz's silent healing.
The hall was immersed in a state of awe. What had just happened was not just science; for the guests, it was pure olfactory magic. All eyes converged on Sasha Meneguel with an admiration that bordered on reverence.
Andrei, puffing out his chest with undisguised pride, did not miss the chance to praise his protégée. “What did I say? Sasha Meneguel lives up to her reputation! She is not only a master at blending perfumes, she has mastered the essence of life.”
The chorus of approval was unanimous. However, Sasha, with the elegance of someone who does not need stolen glory, rested her gaze on Katherine Lutz, who was sitting next to her with an unreadable expression. “It's not my credit,” Sasha declared, her calm voice cutting through the compliments. “It was a gift I received from someone.”
“Oh, really? And who might that hidden genius be?” Questions came from all sides, laden with surprise.
Sasha gave an enigmatic smile, refusing to give the name. “Just a friend... a very discreet one.”
As etiquette demanded, no one dared to insist, although curiosity hung in the air like the antidote itself. Katherine looked away from the crowd and, turning her head casually, collided with a pair of deep, terrifyingly calm eyes. It was João Arbex.
A chill ran down Katherine's spine. In that silence, she felt that he had deciphered the riddle. He knew.
Restless, she picked up a bottle of water from the table. Perhaps because of her masked nervousness or the cold sweat on her palms, the cap slipped. She tried once, twice, without success. Pretending she wasn't so thirsty, she put the bottle back and returned to observing the room, trying to regain her armor of indifference.
Seconds later, a firm, masculine hand reached out toward her. It was her water bottle—now perfectly uncapped.