Chapter 56
The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to slice with a knife. While Ethan Blackwood interrogated Isabella Sinclair, the one trembling with anxiety wasn’t the accused—it was Sophia Kensington.
She had never outright claimed to be Scarlet Snake, but over the years, she had let the assumption linger, basking in the prestige that came with the name. Why correct anyone when the real Scarlet Snake had vanished from the public eye decades ago? Rumors whispered she was in her sixties—or perhaps already dead. Sophia had no reason to deny the whispers.
“Ethan, please… drop it,” she murmured, her voice strained.
In her mind, third place was enough. She hadn’t aimed for the top—she’d played it safe. After all, she’d taken Scarlet Snake’s signature style, tweaked it just enough to call it her own, and entered the competition only after confirming the legendary perfumer wasn’t participating.
But now, Ethan was relentless.
“Let her go? Not a chance.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. “She won’t walk away after stealing from you.”
A cold dread coiled in Sophia’s chest as she scanned the room, her pulse racing. The air was charged, electric with anticipation. This couldn’t come out. It couldn’t.
She had to act fast.
“Everyone, please—this isn’t what it looks like…” Her voice wavered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she searched for sympathy. “I once gifted Ethan a perfume with a similar base note. Maybe… maybe Isabella happened to smell it. Or perhaps she was inspired by it. That would explain the similarities between our fragrances.”
Her words were carefully chosen, planting just enough doubt without outright accusing Isabella of copying.
Olivia Montgomery scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “Are you serious? You’re implying Isabella copied your perfume? How ridiculous. Do you honestly think the judges here can’t tell an original masterpiece from a cheap imitation?”
Olivia’s outburst drew more onlookers, their curiosity piqued. Several leaned in, comparing the two perfumes with keen interest. Soon, a few industry experts emerged from the crowd, nodding in agreement with Olivia.
“True, there are some similarities in the base notes,” one conceded, “but Number Five is in a league of its own. The complexity, the depth—it’s unparalleled. Number Three, on the other hand, is… well, basic.”
Another chimed in diplomatically, “Coincidences happen. Similar base notes aren’t unheard of. But there’s no denying Number Five is far more sophisticated.”
The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air. In the meticulous world of perfumery, two fragrances with entirely different concepts shouldn’t share such striking similarities. Number Five was a masterpiece, a story woven in scent—rich, bold, unforgettable. Number Three? Pleasant, but uninspired. As if its creator had been too afraid to take risks.
“It almost seems… like Number Three borrowed from Number Five,” someone finally voiced the suspicion everyone had been thinking.
Ethan’s lips curled into a mocking smirk. “Impossible. Sophia’s style has been established for years. If anything, Isabella is the one copying—and doing a poor job of it.” His tone was icy. “It’s laughable how easily frauds slip into these competitions. Maybe when they’re caught lying in court, they won’t find it so amusing.”
Alexander Kingsley stepped forward, his voice steady. “Fraud? If you’re so certain Number Five is a fake, then prove it. Otherwise, I’d be happy to assist Mrs. Sinclair in taking this matter to court. Let’s see how well you defend Sophia there.”
A chill swept through the room. Alexander’s legal team was infamous—ruthless, efficient, capable of dismantling opponents without hesitation.
But Isabella remained calm, her gaze locked onto Sophia. A faint, knowing smile played at her lips.
“Earlier, Ethan implied you were Scarlet Snake,” she said, her voice clear and deliberate. “You didn’t confirm it, but you didn’t deny it either. Now, with everyone watching, I’ll ask you directly, Sophia—are you Scarlet Snake?”
The room held its breath.
Sophia’s lips trembled, her composure crumbling under the weight of the question. She had dodged it before, but Isabella wasn’t letting her escape now.
Just as she stammered out a weak reply, Ethan stepped in front of her.
“Of course she is,” he declared, his voice firm. “Sophia is just modest. She’s used aliases in competitions before—unlike some who cling to borrowed reputations.”
Olivia laughed, the sound sharp with derision. “You can’t be serious. Isabella is the real Scarlet Snake. Maybe people should think twice before pretending to be someone they could never measure up to.”
The words landed like a bomb.
Silence.
No one dared to breathe.
