Chapter 2

The basement was dark and damp, with nothing but a tiny window near the ceiling. But for me, that was more than enough.

I'm a perfumer. I work with my nose, not my eyes.

For the next three days, I practically lived in the lab without sleep. The Lane family had gone all out for this competition.

Premium ambergris, agarwood, and musk were hauled in like money meant nothing. Emily came downstairs every now and then to "inspect" the work.

Which really meant standing at the door with her nose covered and barking orders.

"This scent is too light. Add more rose."

"That one's too strong. I don't like it."

She didn't understand a thing. The soul of a perfume is in its layers, not in throwing everything together.

I obediently made the "changes" she asked for, while quietly slipping one special ingredient into the base notes.

Back in the day, that stuff was a key ingredient in old-school knockout drugs. But in modern perfumery, a tiny trace of it can add an eerie mystery and a seductive, dreamlike edge.

That is, as long as the wearer isn't taking certain psychiatric meds.

And as for Emily, I had solid information. To keep up her helpless little flower image in public, and to deal with the pressure of high society infighting, she'd been taking Prozac for a long time.

When those two substances met inside the body, they created a very interesting chemical reaction. Best case, she'd lose her grip a little. Worst case... she'd completely let loose.

"What should we call this perfume, sis?"

Emily stared at the eerie purple liquid in the vial, and greed flashed through her eyes.

"Let's call it Phoenix," I said.

A phoenix rising from the flames.

The only question was whether those flames would remake her, or burn her down to ash.

"Phoenix? Nice meaning."

Emily nodded in satisfaction and reached for the vial.

"Be careful."

I gave her a timely warning. "This perfume has a strong finish. Don't test-spray it before the competition, or your nose will get worn out."

Emily let out a mocking laugh and snatched the vial away.

"I don't need you telling me what to do."

"And remember, I made this. It has absolutely nothing to do with you."

She clicked away in her heels, like a cat that had stolen the cream and still wanted to brag about it.

I watched her back and gently shut the lab door. A faint bitter almond scent still lingered in the air.

That was nightshade's signature trace.

The real show was only just beginning.

The day before the competition, Andrew came. The Lane family even threw a small send-off party for the occasion.

As the "maid," of course I was stuck serving tea and drinks on the side.

Andrew did look the part, I had to give him that. Tailored suit, luxury watch worth a fortune, the whole package.

He had an arm around Emily's waist, and the two of them flirted on the couch like nobody else existed.

"Emmy, you're definitely taking first place this time."

Andrew affectionately tapped her nose. "Once you come back with the prize, we'll get engaged."

"Stop, people are watching."

Emily shyly burrowed into his arms, but her eyes slid toward me in the corner with pure provocation.

I poured them red wine without a word. My hand was steady. Not a single drop spilled.

Only then did Andrew seem to notice me. He frowned and looked me over from head to toe, disgust written all over his face.

"So this is the one they dragged back from the countryside?"

"She does kind of look like Mrs. Lane, but that vibe... damn, she's tacky as hell."

Richard quickly put on a flattering smile. "Sorry you had to see this, Mr. Grant Jr. The girl's never seen the world. We'll just keep her around as a servant from now on."

"Makes sense."

Andrew swirled his wineglass. "Someone like her isn't fit for anything except waiting on Emmy hand and foot."

"Hey, you." He crooked a finger at me like he was calling a dog.

"Go clean my shoes. I stepped in mud on the way in."

Emily covered her mouth and giggled. "Drew, my sister just got here. She doesn't know the rules yet. Don't scare her."

"You're too soft, Emmy."

Andrew let out a cold snort. "People like her need to be put in their place, or they forget who they are."

I set down the wine bottle and walked to the entryway. I looked at the leather shoes, which weren't even dirty.

I really wanted to shove the polishing cloth straight into his mouth. But I held back. Blowing up now would ruin the bigger plan.

I crouched down and carefully wiped the shoes. With every stroke, the hatred in my chest faded a little.

Because I knew they wouldn't get to live on that high horse for much longer.

"That's enough. Stop. You're annoying me."

Andrew kicked my hand away and rubbed his shoe against the carpet with a look of disgust.

"Get lost. You're an eyesore."

I silently packed up the tools and retreated into the shadows.

Nestled in Andrew's arms, Emily toyed with the bottle of Phoenix.

"Drew, smell this. It's the new perfume I made."

Andrew leaned in for a sniff, and his eyes lit up at once.

"It smells amazing. Emmy, you're a genius!"

"A scent this unique will totally win over the judges."

Emily lifted her chin smugly. "Obviously. I've been preparing for this competition for ages."

From my corner, I watched them greedily breathe in that deadly scent. A tiny, cold smile tugged at my lips.

Go ahead. Breathe in more.

I made this funeral scent specially for you.