THE SCENT OF REVENGE

"Is that set already?" I asked from the tiny microphone I had on my ear. My hair covered it well. I leaned at the balcony of the event hall, staring down at the lights and the rich people who looked like they had no problems in the world. I could barely hear the music inside. It was all laughter and clinking glasses. Fake happiness.

Emily’s voice came through the mic clearly. "Done, Aria. Ethan has drunk the wine," she said with a soft giggle. She sounded so proud.

I didn’t smile.

I waited.

My hand trembled a little, so I lit another cigarette. That was the second one in five minutes. The first one didn’t calm me. The second might not either, but I puffed anyway. My red lipstick stained the end of it. I stared straight ahead, watching the city lights glow in the distance. Everything looked peaceful from up here. But not inside me.

"Good," I muttered, smoke leaving my lips in slow curls. My voice was cold. I was shaking on the inside, but outside I looked calm. My heart was banging like a drum in my chest, but my eyes were steady. I was trained for this moment.

This was it.

Tonight was the start of everything I’d worked for.

My red gown hugged my body tight like it was painted on. The fabric shimmered like blood under the golden balcony lights. One long slit showed my thigh, smooth and firm. I’d picked this dress for a reason. I wanted to be remembered. I wanted him to see me and never forget.

"Are you okay?" Emily asked in my ear.

"I’m fine," I whispered.

"Are you sure? You’re breathing hard."

"I said I’m fine," I snapped, but not too loud. She went silent.

I dropped the second cigarette, crushed it under my heel, and took a deep breath.

Ethan Malcovich.

The name burned in my mind like a brand. I had waited years to get this close. I trained myself. Changed everything about me. My voice. My hair. My name. Even the way I walked.

He was the son of the man who destroyed my family.

He was the face of the empire that stole my father’s legacy.

And tonight, he was going to meet me.

I had watched him from afar, studied everything about him. How he walked like the world belonged to him. How his voice stayed calm even when he was angry. He wasn’t just a man. He was an image. A powerful one. Charming. Handsome. Everyone loved him. Everyone wanted a piece of him.

But I didn’t want him.

I wanted revenge.

The gala below was still going strong. People in tuxedos and expensive dresses laughed and danced. Waiters moved like shadows, offering champagne. I spotted Ethan moving through the crowd.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Perfect tux.

His dark hair was messy like he didn’t even care how he looked, but somehow that made him more attractive. He had that easy smile that could melt glass. His jaw was sharp, his lips full. Even from here, I could tell he smelled good. He always did in the pictures.

That was the problem.

He didn’t just look good.

He looked... real.

I hated that.

I hated that the enemy could look like that.

But I couldn’t get distracted.

Not tonight.

I saw him touch a waiter’s arm. Whisper something. Then he turned and walked towards the hallway.

"He’s going in," I whispered to Emily, and I was already moving.

My heels clicked as I entered through the back door of the event hall. The air inside was warm and filled with perfume and champagne. I walked like I owned the place. People turned to stare. Some men gave me long looks. One woman whispered something to her friend as I passed. I didn’t care.

I walked down the corridor towards the restroom.

Once I was alone, I paused.

I opened my clutch and took out the perfume bottle. A tiny glass one, shaped like a diamond. Expensive as hell. I sprayed it on my neck, my chest, and both wrists. The scent was sweet but strong. The kind of smell that stayed in your nose for days. I wanted him to remember it.

I pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside.

It was quiet.

Marble sinks. Gold-framed mirrors. Warm lights glowing above.

I moved to the mirror and leaned slightly against the sink. My hands adjusted the straps of my dress until they sat just right. I turned a little to the side so my thigh showed more through the slit. I fixed a strand of hair, and checked my lipstick. Everything looked perfect.

Then I waited.I could hear soft movements behind the stalls.Then I heard the stall door open.And I saw him.

Ethan Malcovich.

He stepped out, adjusting his tie with one hand. His head was bent, and his eyes were focused on the knot.

He didn’t notice me right away.But then he stopped.

I watched him from the mirror.As his eyes lifted.

They went from my shoes...To my legs...To my hips...To my chest...

And finally, to my face.

He stared, and he blinked.

It wasn't once but twice.

He looked like he wasn’t sure if I was real.

“Hello, lady,” he said finally. His voice was low and smooth, like silk sliding over skin. He smiled a little. That lazy kind of smile that told me he wasn’t shy, not even in here.

I turned slowly to face him. I tilted my head like I was surprised. A little shy. I shifted my weight so my hip stuck out just enough. I let my leg show a little more through the slit.

“Hello, handsome,” I said with a soft voice that I didn't even recognize.

He stepped closer.

Not too close, but close enough for me to smell the wine on his breath. He wasn’t drunk yet. I believed the substance wasn't working that much, it was very mild to intoxicate and lure him to the restroom. He was just loosened up.

“You smell good, princess,” he said,as his breath brushed against my cheek.

That sentence.

Those exact words.

I had imagined them a hundred times.

Because I had paid thousands to wear that perfume just to make him say it. Just to get his attention.

I smiled a little. Not too much.

“Thank you, handsome.”

He raised a hand and gently moved a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers were warm. His touch was careful, like he didn’t want to scare me. Like I was something delicate.

“What’s your name, pretty?” he asked. His eyes didn’t leave mine.

I held his gaze.I didn’t blink.I didn’t shake.

I had trained for this moment.

“Norah,” I said sweetly. “Norah Garner.”

The name made my tongue feel heavy. Bitter. But I smiled.

It was my mask.

The name I built from scratch.

A lie that looked good on me.

He smiled again, more relaxed this time.

“My name is Ethan Malcovich.”

My stomach twisted so hard that it hurt.

That name.

That cursed name.

I had written it a thousand times. On my notebooks. On my walls. On my mirrors with lipstick. Sometimes in anger. Sometimes with tears.

That name had ruined my life.

That name had taken everything.

But I didn’t show it.

I kept my face calm, not letting him see my pain.

I let my lips curve into a soft smile, even though my chest was screaming.

And then he said something that made my heart freeze again.

“Do you mind stepping out with me? This place gives me a migraine, Norah.”