Chapter 10

“Yuna is getting hitched, but what’s that got to do with me? Do I even share any mutual friends with Yuna?” Marguerite pondered, then a thought

struck her.

Could Yuna’s fiancé be Hanley? That greasy, pudgy guy! You gotta admit, Yuna and Hanley are a match made in heaven. They are both trash!

At that thought, Marguerite chuckled softly, looking at Yuna with amusement, “Sorry, I got zero interest in your love life.”

Yuna had put in so much effort to get a rise out of Marguerite, but Marguerite wasn’t taking the bait. It was like Yuna was shooting herself in the foot. She ground her teeth in frustration, nearly bursting with anger, “Marguerite, let me tell you, my husband is…”

“Yuna!” Marguerite cut her off sharply, “You’re engaged, not married. You sure the end game will play out like you planned?”

Yuna was left speechless, her mind a blank canvas.

“If I were you, I’d stick with him till the end. Not like you, flaunting around before anything’s set in stone. If things don’t work out, you will be embarrassing yourself.”

Yuna failed to achieve her goal, and her hatred for Marguerite grew. But she took Marguerite’s words to heart.

or someone had messed up the final

have his number, so if he backed

had to get her dad to find out Frederick’s company address,

glare, and threatened arrogantly, “Marguerite, this isn’t over. Just you wait.

Marguerite replied with a smirk. Her

cards. And to Marguerite, Yuna, who flaunted at

of the President

plush chair, eyes half–closed, twirling a scent strip under his

a handsome young man with delicate features,

tossed it on the

man, Robert Fitzgerald, was Frederick’s psychiatrist. Three years ago, Frederick had lost his sense of smell in a car accident. He’d had numerous secret check–ups abroad, but no cause was found. His doctors suggested it could be psychological, so he brought in

that have stuck with you? If you think about it, you might realize that you could actually smell something during those events. But because you’re so used

eyes, thinking back on recent events. He remembered a ridiculous night where he seemed to have caught a faint scent. It was a subtle fragrance that was easy to miss, but thinking back, that scent seemed to linger at

“I think…”

cut off as someone knocked on the glass door, interrupting his therapy session. He immediately opened his eyes,

Chuck, walked in, followed by another assistant carrying a tray of

company, LuxeScents International, had recently held a large–scale perfume design competition. The perfumes on the tray were the

are the finalists. Please review them,” Chuck gave a nod to the assistant, who set the tray down

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