Chapter 60
Isabella Sinclair realized she was trapped, cornered by the two people standing before her.
A hot surge of anger burned through her chest.
“Since Mr. Kingsley and the judge have made their statements, I’ll concede my mistake. Dragging this out is pointless. Fine. I’ll admit defeat. You can all leave now. Let’s just agree that Sophia is Scarlet Snake.”
The unspoken implication in her words was sharp enough for anyone listening closely. Her eyes, slightly red-rimmed, only reinforced the image—painting her as the victim of Sophia’s influence and the overwhelming power of her connections, forcing her to back down.
“Isabella, what are you so afraid of?” Ethan Blackwood demanded, his voice rough as he seized her wrist in a bruising grip. His gaze flicked to Sophia, dripping with disdain.
“Haven’t you done enough? Even with the truth staring you in the face, you still lie through your teeth? If you confess to cheating on me today and apologize to Sophia, maybe I’ll show you mercy.”
Sophia whispered, “It’s fine, Ethan. You don’t have to go this far for me. Everyone knows Mr. Kingsley controls everything here. I lost fairly. No apology is necessary.”
Olivia Montgomery, already stunned by Ethan’s audacity, could only watch in disbelief as they twisted the narrative to pin everything on Isabella.
“Do any of you even think before you speak?” Olivia scoffed. “You demand proof, yet you have none. You’re just throwing wild accusations. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Isabella was your mother—you’re all so obsessed with her!”
Isabella stared at Ethan, her disbelief sharpening into something colder. “I never realized how blind you’ve been this entire time.”
Her voice was calm, but the biting sarcasm cut deep, making Ethan feel like his words were nothing more than a child’s tantrum—meaningless to her.
Under the weight of everyone’s stares, Isabella calmly picked up Sophia’s perfume bottle and inhaled carefully.
“Cedarwood, musk, and violet. The base is similar to mine, of course. But you left out the rosemary. Can you tell, Sophia?”
Sophia froze. No matter how hard she had tried, she hadn’t been able to replicate the original scent.
Isabella’s voice softened, but her focus remained razor-sharp. “Cedarwood is cool, musk is heavy, and violet is light. You got the proportions right, but you missed the rosemary at the end. That’s the difference.”
The key. It tempered the musk’s weight and lifted the cedarwood, allowing its fragrance to bloom.
As Isabella spoke, her tone shifted into something deeper—the kind of concentration that only came when she discussed perfumery. She could diagnose the exact flaw just by smelling Sophia’s work.
“Your proportions are off. The musk is the base. If you wanted a lighter fragrance, you had to balance it, not just reduce the amount. The result is superficial. Cheap. It lacks depth.”
Isabella’s explanation was so precise that even the most inexperienced listener would understand. Sophia’s pulse spiked with fear—Isabella hadn’t just seen through her; she had practically reconstructed the entire process and exposed every flaw.
Forcing a thin smile, Sophia replied, “You clearly know what you’re doing. But all this proves is that we share similar techniques. That’s all.”
Her voice remained steady, though her nerves were fraying. Isabella might be knowledgeable, but she couldn’t possibly be Scarlet Snake. According to Sophia’s research, Scarlet Snake had to be at least sixty years old.
“And like I said, Isabella, I won’t dwell on this any longer. Consider it your victory. We just happen to be unusually in sync. No need to argue.” Her words were laced with subtext. Even if the base notes were similar, that didn’t prove anything. Many great perfumers refined their creations for years before releasing a masterpiece.
As long as no one could prove the chronology, Sophia was confident her lie would hold.
Isabella’s lips curled with faint amusement. “So you think a shared base note amounts to plagiarism?”
“I never said that,” Sophia replied, her smile perfectly composed. “I just think we’re extraordinarily in sync. It’s unfortunate that others doubt us, throwing around accusations like plagiarism.”
With the contest being anonymous, the real Scarlet Snake wasn’t likely to step forward. The argument over who introduced the base note first seemed like a dead end—and Sophia was banking on it.
“It annoys me that he’s always on top of things, especially when it comes to proportions in perfumery.” Isabella’s gaze lifted, sarcasm lacing her words. “This perfume was created using a temperature-contrasting mixing technique. I’ve had detailed records of it on my phone for eight years—though they were never made public. So I have the chronology, the technique, and the proof.”
