Calliope’s POVThe bar was cloaked in dim lighting, the kind that masked sins and made lies sound like promises.Amber-hued chandeliers hung low, casting sultry glows over velvet-lined booths. The air was thick with cigar smoke and perfume, mingling with the low hum of jazz and clinking glasses.I sat at the marble bar, legs crossed, a crystal wine glass was gently swaying between the fingers.Eyes followed me, men drawn like moths to a flame, unable to look away.I liked it that way.Power wasn’t just worn; it was played, savored.Tonight, I wore a crimson silk dress, the plunging neckline daring and unapologetic. My heels clicked against the floor like punctuation marks to every silent sentence those men dared not speak aloud. The bold red of my lips, perfectly matched to the dress, stood in contrast to the cool detachment in my gaze.Beside me, Druson·Laurent swirled his drink with a lazy wrist, his ice clinking softly.He looked sharp—always did—his ash-gray suit tailored, his gol
Seraphina’s POVThe scent of lavender lingered in the warm air of my apartment, blending with the faint sweetness of jasmine and the earthy undertone of freshly crushed rose petals.Sunlight slanted through the wide bay windows, casting dappled patterns across the wooden counter where I worked, hands deep in the delicate process of extracting raw materials from petals and herbs.This was my sanctuary.Here, I was free to breathe, create, and lose myself in the artistry of fragrance.I leaned in to examine the blend I’d just concocted—a mix of tuberose and vetiver, subtle and feminine with a streak of something bold.This is my latest developed product - Her.Recently, it has consumed all of my thinking and time.A soft chime pulled me from my work.My laptop screen, resting on the desk beside the worktable, lit up with a new email notification.I wiped my hands on a linen cloth and walked over.The message was warm and vibrant:"Dear Sylvaine,It’s a pleasure to finally connect. I’ve
Seraphina’s POVPain shot through my arm like a white-hot blade.I clenched my teeth, resisting the urge to cry out.My assistant’s hand gripped my elbow tightly, her support the only thing keeping me from collapsing onto the cold marble floor of the studio’s lobby.“Careful,” she whispered, her voice trembling against the storm breaking around us.I backed away, breath caught in my throat.On such an important day today, such a change has occurred.The arrival of these intruders may not be a coincidence.My hand trembled slightly due to the pain in my arm.I gritted my teeth and took advantage of the chaos to send a message to Everett.Then I turned slightly, just enough to catch the chaos unfolding.The sharp click of heels against polished stone echoed as Ms. Jan—stepped forward, her dark eyes narrowed in quiet authority.“What is going on here?” she asked, her tone simply precise.The intruders—three of them, all men with sun-weathered faces and the roughness of labor etched into
Seraphina’s POVWhen we finished treating the wound and walked out of the rest room, the silence in the office was more severe than any chaos we faced.The aftermath wasn’t just visible in the overturned chairs or shattered glass—it was written across every face, etched deep in the eyes of people who had poured their time, energy, and hearts into this place.I could feel it pressing down on all of us like a weight no one knew how to carry.No one said a word.Some stood frozen near their desks, others tried to straighten what was left of the mess, their movements mechanical—empty.Lucy stepped forward, her voice soft but steady, “Hey… we’re still standing. That counts for something, right?”Her smile was faint, but real.“It’s okay,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.“After this incident, the studio needs to tidy up again. These days, everyone has been busy preparing for the release of new products for quite some time. I will give everyone three days off. Everyone go back and
Seraphina’s POVThe sun pierced through the thinning veil of clouds, casting a golden hue over the urban forest .I adjusted the straps on my backpack, feeling the weight of my equipment settle against my shoulders.The morning air was cool, laced with the scent of dew-kissed leaves and damp earth. This was a far cry from the sterile environment of my laboratory, yet something about the chaos of nature always stirred inspiration in me.Everett walked ahead, tall and broad-shouldered, his blonde hair tousled by the gentle wind.He glanced back at me, “Sera, I asked you to come out here to relax, not to bring half your lab with you,” He said, with a hint of helplessness mixed in his tone.He didn't call me Sylvaine like everyone else, but instead, called me Sera, just like before.I laughed, tightening my grip on the strap of my backpack.“Come on, Everett. Since I’m out here, I might as well make it worthwhile. My lab’s running low on raw materials, and who knows? Maybe the forest will
Seraphina’s POVThe morning sun filtered through the blinds in thin golden stripes, casting harsh lines across my cluttered desk.I sat in a pale silk blouse and blue jeans, my messy bun barely holding itself together, a lone pen tucked inside it like a forgotten relic.I had just opened the latest production report when the door creaked.Mira, one of our senior finance officers, stepped inside, carrying a thick folder.Too thick.Her face was tight, her lips pressed into a line that spoke of bad news.“Mira?” I straightened.She hesitated at the doorway before closing it behind her.“Sylvaine, we need to talk. It’s about the damages… from the break-in.”She placed the folder on my desk with unsettling care.“The loss report is finalized. Inventory beyond recovery, equipment repairs, halted production timelines… The total loss is substantial—over 100 thousand.”“And the compensation?” I asked, already dreading the answer.She exhaled, almost apologetically.“The police advised us to f
Dante’s POV:The morning sunlight filters through the half-open blinds of my office, its warm rays cutting through the polished desk like sharp blades, leaving cold, hard lines in their wake.In the silent office, my fingers tap silently on the desk, much like Sylvaine's attitude toward me.Silent, indifferent.Mailbox empty.Again.I was rejected.I shifted my gaze to the adjacent screen — York’s account.Four new emails.All from the same person.Sylvaine.I opened the email and my eyes scanned her pleasant and professional response to my secretary.They were having a great conversation, but she had no idea that the person chatting with her through York's email from yesterday until now was me.My tongue pressed against the inside of my cheek, jaw tightening.I refreshed my own inbox one more time, like a fool clinging to the last shred of dignity.Still empty.This made me doubt for a moment whether I had really offended her.In a scene that I don't know about.I leaned back, my cha
Seraphina’s POVThe rain hadn't stopped since dawn.Outside the studio windows, the sky hung heavy and grey, a thick curtain of clouds pressing against the glass like a suffocating shroud. Inside, the atmosphere was no better.CHIHIRO’s usually vibrant office felt muted, voices low, movements mechanical. It was as if the weight of indecision and expectation had drained the color from the walls, leaving only shades of tension.I sat at the head of the long, rectangular conference table, my arms folded over a thin folder, my fingers tapping restlessly against the cold wood."Do you have anything else to report?"My assistant, Lucy, her face composed yet strained, finally broke the dull rhythm."We still haven't heard back from the Vanya’s Group."Her face was pale as she announced the news, which was anything but pleasant.My heart sank along with it."Should we continue waiting, Sylvaine?"A murmur rippled across the room, uncertainty laced in every breath.I inhaled deeply, adjusting
Seraphina’s POVIt was the summer of jasmine and glass.The windows of the CHIHIRO flagship store shimmered under the golden Florence sun, etched with the elegant strokes of our newest fragrance—HER. The name had once been a whisper of a memory, a secret I poured into amber bottles. Now, it was a statement, a reclamation.HER had become a global phenomenon, sold out in Paris, worshipped in Tokyo, and dissected in New York editorials. Critics called it a perfume born of pain and persistence. Maybe they were right. Now me and my team are working on our next launch, Renaissance—that will hold soft and elegant notes for every fighter, who started afresh. Just like me. But this time, I wasn't running errands to collaborate with any company for the launch, I was doing it all independently.I stood on the rooftop of our Florence office, overlooking the Duomo, my fingers curled around a glass of chilled rosé. The same roof where we once watched the sunset during our college days—when dreams w
Everett’s POVLove isn’t always loud. Sometimes it sits in silence, right beside you, quietly hoping you’ll be seen. That’s how it had always been between Seraphina and me.I watched her from the other side of the penthouse lounge, where she stood bathed in early morning light, speaking softly on the phone. Her voice was low, concerned. Probably discussing the fallout from Calliope’s arrest, or maybe the private investigators still searching for Drusen.She didn’t notice me watching. She never really did—not in the way I had once dreamed she would.I’d known her since we were kids. I was the boy who held her books, who chased away her nightmares, who stayed when everyone else left. I loved her long before she ever looked at Dante Laurent. But when she did look at him—God, the way she looked at him—it was like gravity had shifted, and suddenly I was the outsider.I had always thought time would fix it. That Dante’s mistakes would turn her heart toward me. And for a while, when she lef
Seraphina’s POVThe flashing lights of the police cars painted the night in red and blue, like the world had been sliced open and left bleeding.I stood just outside CHIHIRO’s glass doors, heart pounding as the building buzzed with tension. Officers moved inside with urgency. Crime scene tape stretched across the lobby.And there, handcuffed and fuming, was Calliope.“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked at one of the officers, struggling against their grip. Her perfect hair was a mess, mascara streaking down her face. “You don’t understand! I was framed!”But no one believed her. Not this time.Earlier that night, CHIHIRO’s alarm had blared through the empty halls. I had rushed over, heart slamming in my chest, only to find shattered glass and scattered product samples. My sanctuary was vandalized.Calliope had finally snapped.Security footage showed her breaking in, frantic, almost unhinged. She’d smashed displays, tore files, and was frantically attempting to download proprietary data on
Dante’s POVCalliope's perfume still lingered in the hallway long after she slammed the door shut behind her.She was always dramatic like that. Storming in like she owned the place. Drenched in desperation and Chanel No. 5. Dressed to seduce, lying through perfectly red-painted lips.But this time, I didn’t flinch. This time, I saw her clearly—too clearly.I closed the door quietly behind her and leaned against it, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.The silence in the penthouse was deafening.I walked over to the minibar and poured myself a drink—neat bourbon. The sting felt earned.Drusen. That bastard. The minute my legal team uncovered his connection to the tampering of CHIHIRO’s rig, I knew there was more rot buried underneath the surface. And surprise—he wasn’t just involved. He was the damn architect.An illegitimate Laurent. He wore the name like armor, but he was never cut from the same cloth. He clawed his way into the company with fake smiles and boardroom s
Calliope’s POVI threw the glass across the room. It shattered like my plans—beautiful in destruction, worthless in what it left behind. My phone buzzed again, Drusen’s name glowing across the screen like a threat."Answer me, Calliope. We need to talk. Now."I didn’t want to see him. Not now. Not ever. But I had to. I needed to be sure we weren’t being watched. That the little empire we built on lies and secrets hadn’t collapsed yet. So I grabbed my coat, slid into stilettos that felt like armor, and made my way to his apartment.He opened the door shirtless, smug. Like he hadn’t orchestrated the sabotage of my sister’s company. Like he wasn’t one wrong whisper away from a federal charge.“Where the hell have you been?” I demanded, shoving past him.Drusen shut the door and leaned against it. “Managing fallout. You know, cleaning up your mess.”“My mess?” I laughed bitterly. “You were the one who brought Owen into this. You were the one who planted the device under the rig!”He arch
Seraphina’s POVThe sky outside my office window churned with storm clouds, a mirror to the chaos brewing in my chest. The file from Vanya’s security team still lay open on the glass table in front of me, the grainy photo of Owen—the man from Calliope’s past—burning into my memory like a curse.I shut the folder and drew in a breath, pressing my palms flat against the cool surface of the table. My company couldn’t see this unravel me. CHIHIRO had fought too hard to rise. I couldn’t let scandal pollute the fragrance we’d spent years perfecting. I couldn’t let anyone know that my own bloodline was poisoning the roots.So I stood, spine straight, chin high, and walked out to the production floor.“Postpone the press release,” I told Mira, my head of communications. “We’re revising our statement.”She blinked, surprised. “Is something wrong?”“No,” I said, too quickly. “Just perfectionism.”The lie tasted bitter, but it did the job.Back in my office, Dante waited. He stood by the window
Seraphina’s POVThe rain came early. A thin veil brushing over my windows like whispered warnings.I stood in the center of my living room, the scent of lavender incense wafting around me, trying—failing—to calm the war inside my chest. CHIHIRO Studio had weathered storms before. We had stood against market crashes, supplier betrayals, aggressive takeovers. But this... this was personal.The envelope still sat on my coffee table, opened and crumpled slightly from how tightly I'd held it last night. He's coming.It kept me up. It had bled into every decision I made this morning. Into every email I wrote. Every PR strategy I reworded.I didn’t tell Everett. He had given me the space I asked for. The silence between us wasn’t cold—it was reverent. I knew he loved me. And I loved him too, just not in the way he wanted. Not in the way that could match the ache behind his eyes every time he looked at me and tried to smile.I needed answers. Closure. Peace. Something I could only get from t
Seraphina’s POVI hadn’t slept.My phone buzzed with unanswered calls. Notifications stacked like a digital scream. Media outlets wanted statements. Answers about the incident. About my relation with Dante. Gossip blogs were already feeding off the scent of scandal. One article speculated a "secret rivalry" between CHIHIRO and Vanya. Another questioned my loyalty to the brand I had built from scratch.All because of a single shout in the dark.And the incident.And Dante.His face had burned itself into the back of my eyes the moment he caught the falling rig. The moment he looked at me like I was a ghost.Calliope.I could still hear the name on his lips.Wrong name. Wrong woman. But the right pain.Everett had driven me home in silence. He hadn’t pried. He never did. He sat beside me like a monument to patience, though I could feel the turmoil in him with every glance he stole. He loved me. He had always loved me, quietly, devotedly. And I—I couldn’t give him anything more than fr
Dante’s POVI stood in the middle of a storm I hadn't seen coming.She was supposed to be my wife. But if she was Calliope, why didn’t she even mention her perfume business in years.Suddenly a memory flashed before my eyes. The day Calliope cooked expired sardines for me. She was talking to someone about some perfume. Mentioning how she wanted a chemical free soft fragrance. It was the day she left the divorce papers on the table that I never signed. I had to coax her back home from the restaurant where she was waiting in a golden revenge dress. She hadn’t been the same since then. And her choice in perfume had changed terribly. The girl with eyes full of quiet fire and hands that had once pulled me back from the edge of unconsciousness–Calliope wasn't that same girl anymore. But the girl I’m just seeing now, Seraphina, why do I feel that it was her? Something is wrong—no, everything is wrong.The girl whose name had haunted me for years—and now stood right in front of me.Seraphina,