Chapter 5

Natalie's POV

Serena's "fainting" was just a case of low blood sugar, yet Damian treated it like a crisis, not only rushing her to a private hospital overnight but also staying by her side for two whole days.

I didn't ask a single question, because I was busy handling the transfer of the aromatherapy shop.

The shop had found a suitable buyer, and the price negotiations went smoothly.

Today was my last time at the shop to pack my personal belongings.

On the shelves were many rare essential oils and antique perfume bottles I had collected.

The most precious was a small bottle of ultra-pure Bulgarian rose absolute. A legacy from my late professor. Worth a fortune. And more than that, my spiritual anchor.

I carefully packed it into a shock-proof box. The wind chimes on the shop door suddenly rang.

I looked up to see Serena, wearing sunglasses and a mask, walk in surrounded by a group of bodyguards.

"Natalie, so you're here."

Serena removed her sunglasses and surveyed the aromatherapy shop, a flash of undisguised jealousy in her eyes.

"Can I help you?"

I didn't stop what I was doing, my tone indifferent.

"Damian said he's been having insomnia lately. I want to personally pick out a calming aromatherapy for him."

Serena walked to the shelf and casually picked up a bottle of essential oil to examine.

"Natalie, you won't mind me choosing something from your shop to give him, will you?"

"Pick whatever you want. Pay at the counter when you're done."

I didn't even look up.

Serena's gaze scanned around the shop and finally landed on the exquisite shock-proof box beside me.

"What's this? It's packaged so nicely, it must be something special, right?"

Serena suddenly reached out and grabbed the box.

"Don't touch it!"

I shouted sharply.

But it was too late.

Serena deliberately let it slip.

"Oops," she said, and the box crashed heavily onto the hard marble floor.

The crisp sound of shattering glass was especially piercing in the quiet shop.

The rich, pure scent of roses instantly permeated the air. It was my professor's life's work, my most treasured possession, now reduced to a sticky mess of shards on the floor.

I froze in place, my mind blank for a moment.

Looking at the fragments, my hands trembled uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Serena put on a panicked expression, her eyes instantly reddening.

"Natalie, please don't be angry. I'll pay you back however much it costs..."

Just then, Damian strode into the shop.

As soon as he entered, he saw Serena with red-rimmed eyes standing to one side while I stared at the broken glass on the floor, the atmosphere tense.

"What happened?"

Damian pulled Serena into his arms, frowning.

"Damian, I accidentally broke something of Natalie's. She seems really angry..."

Serena leaned into his embrace pitifully, tears falling on cue.

Damian glanced at the glass shards on the floor and looked at me impatiently.

"It's just a perfume bottle. Serena didn't do it on purpose. Do you really need to look like you want to kill someone?"

I slowly raised my head, looking at this man I'd shared a bed with for three years.

He didn't even ask what she broke before rushing to take Serena's side.

"Just a perfume bottle?"

I softly repeated his words.

I didn't scream hysterically, nor did I lunge at them like a shrew.

I simply walked to the counter, took out an invoice, quickly wrote down a string of numbers, then walked up to Damian and slapped the invoice against his chest.

"This is my professor's rare legacy piece, with a market value of three million dollars, but to me, it's priceless."

I said,

"Since Serena says she'll compensate, then please settle the bill for her, Mr. Harrison. Three million dollars. Not a penny less."

Damian froze.

"Natalie, are you insane? How could something in this dump be worth three million? You're extorting me!"

Damian said through clenched teeth.

"You can choose not to pay. I'll call the police right now and check the security footage."

I held up my phone, unyielding.

Damian looked at me, his chest heaving violently. He suddenly pulled out his checkbook, scrawled three million on it, and slammed it on the table.

"Natalie, you've really fallen into the money pit! I was so wrong about you!"

With that, he pulled Serena away and left the aromatherapy shop without looking back.

I stood there, looking at the three-million-dollar check.

I crouched down and picked up the glass shards soaked in essential oil with my bare hands, piece by piece.

The sharp edges cut my fingers, blood mixing with the scent of roses dripping onto the floor.

I didn't cry.

Because this three million was exactly enough to cover the admission fee for the Grasse laboratory.

Damian, this debt between us. We're even.