Chapter 1

My husband brought up divorce while I was boiling noodles.

"Split the savings down the middle. You keep the condo."

"The startup capital for the fragrance company was mine. So were every client and connection I built from scratch. None of that goes to you."

I didn't stop stirring. I just nodded.

Julian looked surprised.

"That's it?"

I grabbed a handful of cilantro and dropped it into the bowl.

"What else?"

He stared at the green scattered across the surface, frowning.

"You never put cilantro in your noodles."

I paused for a second.

"People change their taste."

Julian looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

What he didn't know was this:

I'd never eaten cilantro because he hated the smell of it.

But that was over now.

·······

The moment I lifted the noodles from the pot, the doorbell rang.

Julian moved quickly to answer it, his voice soft.

"Why did you come all the way up? I told you to wait in the lobby."

The woman at the door laughed, bright and easy.

"I'm here to help you move. I didn't want you carrying everything alone."

I walked out with my bowl and found her already stepping inside, Julian's arm loosely around her waist.

I knew her. Cara Wynn — the new intern Julian had hired just six months ago. Supposedly a top graduate from the University of Washington's fragrance program.

From the day she walked into the office,

Julian had never stopped finding reasons to praise her.

Cara gave me an apologetic smile.

"Sorry to intrude, Rowan."

Rowan. She knew we were married and still called me by my first name like we were colleagues at a networking event.

I didn't respond. I sat down and kept eating.

Julian, sensing my silence, offered an explanation.

"Don't read into it. I just asked Cara to help me pack."

Cara slipped off her shoes and moved into the apartment like she'd been here before.

A scent hit me immediately. Familiar. Too familiar.

I set down my chopsticks.

"Did you give her the prototype I've been developing?"

Cara's hands went still on the jacket she was folding. She glanced at Julian.

Julian shrugged it off.

"You developed it as a company employee. Legally, it belongs to the company."

"Rowan. Business is business."

I went back to eating without a word.

Ten years of marriage. To help Julian build his dream, I walked away from a seven-figure salary and started over with nothing.

I never asked for a paycheck. Not once.

And now he was telling me business is business.

Cara chimed in.

"Right, Rowan — you basically just submitted a formula. The real development and production work? That was all the company."

Just a formula.

I almost laughed hearing that.

I set down my bowl and looked at Julian calmly.

"I pulled references from over a dozen historical texts to piece that formula together."

Julian's eyes flickered with impatience.

"So? The sources were public. If not you, someone else would've found them eventually."

Cara nodded along.

"Honestly, I've read those same texts. The only reason it wasn't me is because you knew Julian before I did."

This time I actually did laugh.

Julian looked irritated and turned to leave.

"I'll be at the courthouse tomorrow. Don't be late."

While I washed the dishes, my phone lit up.

A photo had been posted in the work group chat. The whole company, standing together. Julian and Cara in the center, matching outfits, champagne flutes raised.

They looked like a couple on a magazine cover.

The messages kept coming.

[Celebrating the Odoeologie IPO!]

[Thank you, Julian and Cara!]

Water rushed over my hands.

I stared at the company name until my eyes stung.

That was the name I gave my first perfume.

I tried to type something.

But the screen returned:

[You cannot send messages in a group you've left.]

A second later, Julian's message appeared in my inbox.

"Send me the formula."