Shock gripped his chest. He lifted it with care, his expression grim, and sent it for immediate testing.
Then began the wait—long, dragging seconds that pressed like lead on his shoulders, each one sharpening his dread.
When the result finally came, it was everything he feared.
"This perfume is laced with an advanced form of Inferna poison," the lab worker reported, voice low. "A turbo strain. That's why the body collapsed so violently. The hereditary illness inside the vessel… it has been forced awake."
***
The next morning, Ryley stood before the mirror, fastening the tanzanite ring onto his finger.
The gem caught the light, gleaming cold and proud. A knock sounded against the door, steady and polite.
"Come in."
Jade entered, a small glass bottle cradled carefully in his hand. Its surface was plain, unlabeled, as though guarding a secret. He stepped forward and offered it.
"Your perfume, Sir. As requested."
