Chapter 3

"Why did you hit her?"

I watched Julian rush to Cara's side, shielding her like she was something fragile.

A heaviness settled in my chest.

"Julian. I used to think I was the blind one. Now I think it's you."

I turned to leave. Julian blocked the door.

"Apologize. Or you know what I'm capable of."

I didn't respond.

But I found out exactly what he was capable of a few days later.

My closest friend called, stumbling over her words.

"Did you and Julian actually split? Why is everyone online saying Cara founded Odoeologie?"

"And that perfume — I swear that was yours. Why is her name on it now?"

I gave her a vague answer and opened the app.

The top trending story was about Odoeologie's power couple and their 'modern love story.'

I tapped it. It was a recorded interview with Julian.

He spoke warmly, gesturing toward Cara as he explained the origin of the Odoeologie name.

"This fragrance exists because of my partner's love for me. Without her, Odoeologie would never have been born."

He wasn't entirely wrong about that, actually.

The inspiration behind the formula had come from someone's love for him.

It just wasn't Cara's.

I kept watching.

Julian held Cara's hand on camera, looking at her with the kind of attention I hadn't seen directed at me in years.

The comments were flooded with people shipping them.

Marketing accounts had already dug up Cara's academic credentials and her supposed background in fragrance chemistry.

No one mentioned me. Not the woman who built the formula, not the wife who was discarded.

My grip on the phone tightened.

Julian was systematically removing every trace of me.

I sat down at my laptop and pulled up the National Copyright Registration portal.

I searched my name.

The filings were all there. Every perfume formula I'd registered.

The tension in my chest loosened slightly.

I'd always been careful about intellectual property — even when I didn't think I needed to be.

Because I'd trusted Julian, I never asked for a salary or a contract.

Which meant the IP was entirely mine.

Two messages came in.

One from Julian:

[Why hasn't the core formula come through yet?]

[Odoeologie is presenting at the Seattle Fragrance Founders Summit tomorrow. I need it tonight.]

I ignored it.

The other was from Theo:

[Heard you got written out of Odoeologie. Come work with me instead.]

Theo Nash. I'd met him while foraging raw botanicals in the Cascades two summers ago. Another obsessive — someone who loved scent the same way I did.

I sat with the message for a while. Then looked at my savings.

I replied.

[I want equity. Fifty-fifty.]

He didn't pause.

[Done. I already have a studio space. Meet tomorrow?]

[Yes. Let me wrap something up here first.]

Julian called before I could put the phone down.

"Why haven't you sent the formula?"

I was quiet for a moment.

"Julian. I made that formula myself."

He stopped.

"You made it as a company employee. It's company property."

I laughed. It felt genuine.

"Julian — did we ever sign a contract?"

"Did you ever pay me a single dollar?"

His voice shifted.

"You're the one who said you didn't need a contract. Don't throw that back at me now."

True. I'd said that because I thought we were partners.

I didn't realize my generosity would become the blade he'd use to cut me out.

He kept talking. I hung up.

A text came in an hour later.

[Given our ten years together — name your price. Just send it.]

I set the phone face-down and laid out my outfit for tomorrow.