Chapter 101

The moment they left Lucien at The Chateau Royale, Dominic checked his watch and confirmed their evening pickup time.

Finally alone in the car, Vanessa couldn’t hold back her questions any longer.

"Dominic, who is this Lucien Dubois? Why are you bending over backward for him? The way he looks at us—like we’re beneath him—makes my skin crawl. If he’s such a legend in perfumery, why haven’t I heard of him before? Or is he just full of hot air?"

Her fingers tightened around her seatbelt as she recalled his condescending smirk.

"We wasted an entire day playing chauffeur for a man who did nothing but criticize. Shouldn’t we verify his credentials first? What if he’s a fraud?"

Dominic’s grip on the steering wheel didn’t waver. "He’s the real deal. Pulling strings just to get him here wasn’t easy."

Despite the unresolved crisis, some of the tension had eased from Dominic’s shoulders. Lucien’s reputation was solid—unlike Evelyn Carter, whose raw talent still paled in comparison to industry giants. Her amateurish attempts wouldn’t even register on his radar.

Then Vanessa hesitated, voice dropping. "Speaking of connections… is Genevieve Sinclair your mother?"

A beat of silence. Then a stiff nod.

Years ago, Genevieve—once the brightest star of her generation—had traded the spotlight for a gilded cage, marrying into the Sinclair dynasty. The price? Abandoning her career… and her son.

Dominic had been raised by his grandparents, carrying his father’s name like armor. In public, he addressed her as Ms. Sinclair, never Mom. Few knew the truth—not even Evelyn.

Vanessa’s eyes lit up. "Then we can trust him! Your mother wouldn’t steer you wrong, especially now. With her backing, Evelyn doesn’t stand a chance."

Dominic’s jaw tightened. "I don’t like involving her. She made it clear long ago where her priorities lie."

Vanessa reached for his arm. "She must have had her reasons. Those high-society cages aren’t easy to navigate. But she reached out now—that has to mean something."

"Maybe." The word tasted bitter.

Genevieve’s rare visits had always been perfumed with guilt—expensive gifts, stiff smiles. A new family, a new life, one with no room for him.

That’s why he’d clawed his way up alone. To prove he didn’t need her.

Yet here he was, inches from victory, forced to reach for the hand that had once let him fall.