Chapter 3

By eight the next morning, my bank card no longer worked.

I left it beside the untouched coffee and carried one suitcase to Velaire. Mom’s notebooks and silver atomizer remained in the formulation room Nolan had promised would always be mine. I wanted them before leaving our apartment.

My access code flashed red.

Through the glass door, Celeste stood at my worktable with Mom’s black notebook open beneath her hand. The silver atomizer hung from a chain around her neck.

“Take that off,” I said when she opened the door.

She covered the notebook instead. “Nolan said everything in this room belongs to Velaire.”

Nolan entered, still wearing last night’s shirt. Celeste kissed the corner of his mouth; he did not pull away.

Some betrayals arrived like a blade. This one settled with the cold weight of a door locking. The jasmine on his jacket finally had a face, and I hated that part of me had kept searching for an innocent explanation.

“Give me my mother’s things,” I said.

Nolan placed a single sheet on the table. It said I had permanently surrendered *After Rain* and every related formula to Velaire.

The signature resembled mine until I noticed the narrow loop in the B. Nolan had copied it from the electronic forms I used while Mom was ill. Then I saw the date.

The day of her funeral.

“This is dated the day I buried my mother,” I said. “You waited until I could barely stand, then forged my name.”

“It formalized what we agreed years ago,” Nolan said. “Come home, finish *Midnight Orchard*, and none of this needs to become ugly.”

He told me my company access was gone. The household account would remain frozen. If I approached our regular suppliers, Velaire’s orders would matter more than mine. Each sentence removed another practical place to stand. He was not asking me to return; he was trying to make departure impossible.

I reached for Mom’s notebook. Nolan caught my wrist.

“You’ll come back when you understand what life costs without me.”

“Let her go.”

Alexander stood inside the doorway, a leather folder beneath one arm. Silver threaded his dark hair, and his voice was so controlled that Nolan’s grip suddenly looked childish.

“This is my marriage,” Nolan said.

Alexander took Nolan’s wrist and removed his hand from mine with unhurried force. “Marriage is not permission to keep holding a woman after she says no.”

He had arrived to confirm Velaire’s placement in Laurent stores for another year. After hearing Nolan admit Celeste could not finish the next fragrance without me, Alexander closed the folder and put it away.

“Laurent’s annual fragrance showcase has one independent place,” he told me. “Pass a blind assessment, and you may compete for it. I will not judge the final entries.”

Hope frightened me. Alexander opened the door but did not reach for me.

Nolan laughed. “Without me, she’s nothing.”

“Then let the assessment decide,” Alexander said.

I took an empty sample bottle from my old table.

“Even that belongs to Velaire,” Nolan snapped.

“Then charge me for the glass.”

I tore off its Velaire label and dropped it on the forged signature.

“Whatever I put in this next will carry my name.”

My wrist throbbed as I walked through the door. I was still grieving, broke, and afraid. But for the first time since the funeral, anger carried me farther than grief.