A Familiar Fragrance

Camilla’s smirk widened, twisting her features into a mask of pure, unrestrained mockery. She stood tall in the center of the Lumina Jewelry lobby, practically vibrating with the certainty that Vivienne lacked both the guts and the means to produce the exclusive Dravenian royal commemorative medal. Everyone in their elite circle knew Gideon had been personally received by the royal family of Dravenia. He counted the Dravenian princess among his personal friends. He knew exactly what the genuine artifact looked like.

"Well?" Camilla challenged, her voice ringing out to ensure every spectator heard her. "Does this mean you don't have the guts to do it? Look at her, Gideon. She is a liar. She knows you recognize the real medal, which is exactly why she doesn't dare take it out."

Vivienne let out a soft scoff. "Why would I show you such a precious item?"

The implication hung heavy in the silent air: Camilla was unworthy of even laying eyes on it.

Before Camilla could shriek her outrage, Gideon stepped forward. The temperature in the lobby seemed to plummet. His demeanor remained frigid as he closed the distance between himself and Vivienne.

"The payment of one hundred and fifty million dollars was my idea," Gideon stated, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Hiring Veda as our designer was also my idea. I will let today's chaotic affair slide if you can definitively prove that you are indeed Veda." He took another deliberate step closer, leaning in just a fraction to deliver a chilling ultimatum. "But if you fail to do so... you will not survive another day in Crownhaven."

As he approached, the air between them shifted dramatically. A distinct, intoxicating scent hit Vivienne like a physical blow to the chest. The rich, musky notes of a specific Gucci cologne wrapped around her senses, cutting through the sterile air of the lobby.

Her breath hitched. The bustling surroundings faded into the background as her mind slammed back to six years ago. The suffocating darkness of that hotel room. The searing heat of the nameless man pinning her to the mattress. The pain, the confusion, and that exact, unforgettable fragrance lingering on his skin.

Why was Gideon Rothwell wearing the exact same cologne as the man who ruined her life?

Despite the profound internal shock paralyzing her chest, Vivienne refused to let a single crack show in her armor. She lifted her chin, masking her trauma with a brilliant, unbothered smile that caught the overhead lights. She met Gideon's calculating, predatory gaze head-on.

"Are you certain about that, sir?" she asked, flipping the script with a challenging tilt of her head.

Gideon squinted. He stared at her in silence, studying the defiant spark burning in her eyes.

Unfazed by his unspoken threats, Vivienne pressed her advantage. "Tell me, what do you intend to do about the harsh slap I just took cheek-on from Miss Kensington if I successfully prove my identity?"

Camilla’s triumphant expression faltered instantly. She shot a cautious, nervous glance at Gideon. Though she paraded herself as his lover, he had never laid a single finger on her over the past six years. She relied entirely on her flawless scheme and the hotel reservation records under her name from that fateful night to maintain her position. If she caused too much trouble, he might start asking questions she could not answer.

"Gideon..." Camilla murmured, trying to sound fragile and victimized.

"I will get her to apologize to you," Gideon replied with stark indifference, his focus never leaving Vivienne.

Vivienne immediately stopped searching through her handbag. Her hands stilled, and her eyes flashed with dangerous defiance. She looked at the towering billionaire as if he had just told a terrible joke.

"I just got physically assaulted, and your solution is a mere apology?" Vivienne pointed out the glaring absurdity of his terms. She mocked their twisted sense of justice. "We were all born and raised in a civilized society that upholds the teaching of returning gifts. Don't you think I should be allowed to slap her in return to feel truly reconciled?"

A pin-drop silence swept through the onlookers. No one dared to breathe. They exchanged bewildered glances. Did this woman have a death wish? Who dared to negotiate terms like this with Gideon Rothwell?

Gideon stiffened. He was unused to anyone displaying such blatant defiance against him. Let alone a woman. His jaw clenched, and his voice dropped a dangerous octave. "Do not push your luck."

"Then you should find yourself another designer," Vivienne retorted coldly, thoroughly unimpressed by his dark aura.

She reached into her designer bag and swiftly pulled out a heavy, gleaming object. Without hesitation, she flashed the genuine, glittering Dravenian royal medallion right in front of his face. The intricate crest caught the light, verifying its authenticity in a split second.

"Since you have seen the royal commemorative medal before, take a good look at it. I am not someone who lets things slide so easily."

Before Gideon could fully register the intricate details of the priceless badge, Vivienne packed the medal away. She turned on her heel and walked out of the building. The sharp click of her heels echoed across the marble floor as she left without a single backward glance, her posture radiating pure, unadulterated confidence.

The lobby descended into hushed chaos. Camilla stood rooted to the spot, humiliated and plunged into blinding panic. Her mind raced with terrifying realizations. Veda was the designer Gideon poached from Glitzara. He offered the astronomical fee himself. And Veda was Vivienne.

"Gideon, I..." Camilla scrambled forward, reaching out with trembling hands to cling to his arm. She desperately needed to salvage the situation.

He did not even look at her. He coldly and roughly brushed her hands off his suit sleeve. "Deal with this mess yourself," he ordered, leaving her to handle the humiliating aftermath of the lobby alone.

He strode out of the building. The bodyguard dressed in a sharp black suit immediately opened the door to a luxurious Rolls-Royce parked at the curb. Gideon slid into the spacious backseat, his mind racing with a potent mixture of intrigue and irritation. That woman's arrogant smile and fearless demands echoed in his head.

He leaned forward and addressed his assistant in the passenger seat. "I want a full, exhaustive background check on the designer Veda. Have it on my desk within two days."

Miles away, behind the secured gates of Oceanfront Villa, a different kind of scheme was brewing.

The three brilliant rugrats—Maddox, Jaxon, and Chloe—were huddled around a glowing computer monitor. They were actively plotting against the woman who dared to lay a hand on their mother.

"She looks so ugly," Chloe commented, holding her favorite plush doll tight against her chest as she glared at the screen displaying Camilla Kensington's social media.

Maddox, the oldest and most dependable, turned his serious gaze to his younger siblings. "This woman harmed Mommy. We cannot let her go. We have to think of a way to handle this without Mommy finding out."

Chloe propped her chin on her small hand. "But what are we going to do with her?"

Maddox cracked his brain for a moment before snapping his fingers. "Didn't Godmother tell us that this woman has a sugar daddy? A powerful backer? Let's start with the bigshot standing behind her!"

"What was the man's name again?" Chloe looked up, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"Gideon Rothwell," Jaxon supplied, his small fingers flying across the customized mechanical keyboard. He pulled up the corporate profile of the Obsidian Group in a matter of seconds.

The webpage loaded, displaying a high-resolution portrait of the billionaire CEO.

The three triplets froze in place. They stopped breathing, their wide eyes glued to the monitor in dawning realization. The powerful man staring back at them through the screen shared their exact facial features. The shape of the eyes, the line of the jaw, the cold but striking aura.

"This man..." Jaxon muttered, breaking the silence. "Why does he look so much like us?"

Maddox stared at the photo, his sharp mind connecting the dots. Mommy never spoke about their father. She always avoided the topic. Could this wildly powerful billionaire actually be the man who gave them life?

A hint of slyness flashed across Jaxon's eyes. "If he is indeed our daddy, then taking down that ugly woman will be a piece of cake."

"But how can we approach him?" Maddox asked, ever the practical thinker.

Chloe's eyes lit up with mischief. She patted her chest confidently. "Leave it to me, brothers. I saw that a children's clothing brand under the Obsidian Group is currently looking for spokespersons. We will audition as child models! I will secure the position for us. It is a fail-safe plan!"

"Sweethearts, I am back!"

Vivienne's voice echoed from the front hallway.

The kids gasped and scrambled to close the browser windows, shutting down their covert operation in record time. They bounded out of the room, their faces arranged into pictures of absolute innocence.

"Mommy! Your Royal Highness!" They threw themselves at her legs in a cheerful welcome.

Vivienne caught them, squatting down to wrap them in a warm embrace. "Did you three cause your godmother any trouble today?"

Jaxon tilted his head, acting clueless. "Mommy, do you think we would bully Godmother?"

"That is right," Chloe chimed in, nodding eagerly. "Godmother even promised to bring us cakes later!"

Vivienne smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. She knew her children better than anyone. Jaxon was a master schemer, Maddox was fiercely protective, and Chloe was the queen of unorthodox, quirky ideas. They were definitely up to something, but she had bigger issues to worry about.

Maddox, always observant, immediately noticed the subtle, lingering unease in his mother's posture. Her hands were slightly tense. "Mommy, you look upset. Did someone bully you?"

Vivienne stiffened slightly. She tried to push down the trauma trigger, but her mind remained fixated on Gideon Rothwell. His striking facial familiarity. The haunting scent of that Gucci cologne. It was all too much of a coincidence.

"No one bullied me, baby," Vivienne lied smoothly, gently brushing off his concerns and standing up. She forced a bright smile for their sake. "Adults just have stressful days sometimes. I will go make you guys some food."

She turned toward the kitchen, desperate to shake the intrusive thoughts. Before she could take a step, her cell phone abruptly rang, cutting through the domestic peace.

She pulled the device from her pocket and glanced at the screen. Recognizing the unknown number, her lips curled into a sharp, knowing smile. It was exactly who she expected to call after the disastrous lobby encounter.

Camilla Kensington.