ManyWriters

On our wedding day, my fiancé publicly called off the marriage, using a million-dollar endorsement deal for his pure love as a bride price.
As I was being mocked by the crowd, my childhood sweetheart from a medical dynasty family returned from studying abroad.
He knelt and presented me with 9,999 flaming roses, along with a ten-billion-dollar bride price, proposing marriage.
Grateful for his appearance, I immediately accepted.
Three months into my pregnancy, there was an accident in the lab, and my childhood sweetheart personally performed my surgery.
When I woke up, he choked up as he told me the baby couldn't be saved, and my olfactory cells were permanently damaged - I would never be able to smell any scent again.
I was devastated. My childhood sweetheart held me tightly, vowing to protect me for life and let me be his one and only princess forever.
But six years later, I accidentally overheard his conversation with his assistant:
"Mr. Grey, for Vivienne's sake, you not only helped her fake the perfume formula, but also deliberately released toxins in the lab to make Melody miscarry, using that not-yet-formed fetus as an ingredient for her. Was it worth it?" "Vivienne hasn't been able to create a new fragrance since losing her sense of smell! She cries all day and looks haggard! Do you really want to stand by and watch such a talented and outstanding woman fall from grace?"
"I only regret that this child was premature and not pure enough. Otherwise, Vivienne's limited edition perfume would have gone down in history!"
What I thought was true love turned out to be a long-planned trap to steal my essence.

My Husband Turned Our Miscarried Embryo into Perfume

That night when I got home, I slipped a hefty dose of sleeping pills into his favorite calming tea.


Watching him drift off into a deep slumber, he murmured in his sleep:


"Vivienne... your perfume will surely dazzle the world..."


I silently packed my bags and accepted the job offer from a top European perfumery school.


Damien, since you're so enamored with Vivienne's talent, I'll step aside for you two.


The password was Vivienne's birthday - easy enough to unlock.


What caught my eye was an encrypted folder named "Beloved Vivienne".


Opening it revealed years of their research records.


Every formula modification and experimental data point was filled with Damien's devotion.


"Seeing Vivienne test fragrances today reminded me of that heart-fluttering moment when we first met six years ago."


"Vivienne's getting married again. I'm going crazy with jealousy! But just being able to work on perfumes with her is enough!"


"Melody always says I'm too busy with work. Truth is, I've been doing experiments with Vivienne. That sense of connection takes me back to our college days."Besides all this, there were countless orders for laboratory equipment, as well as various rare fragrances he had custom-made for Vivienne.


He even built her a private lab in Switzerland, right at the foot of the Alps.


And over these years, all he's given me is a sham marriage filled with false affection, and the permanent loss of my sense of smell and my child.


While I suffered alone at home, grappling with the loss of my ability to smell,


Vivienne was already freely showcasing her talent in that dreamy laboratory.


I clutched the tablet tightly, a wave of nausea rising in my stomach. I rushed to the bathroom and started dry heaving.


As I turned, I accidentally knocked over a picture frame on the cabinet, and a stack of documents fell out.


It turned out to be a hidden compartment.


Inside were several experimental records and Vivienne's research proposals.


Damien spared no expense in supporting her research.


He even agreed to provide her with the purest experimental materials.


The last document shockingly bore my name.


It clearly stated "Voluntary provision of fetal tissue for perfume development".


At the time, he said he needed me to undergo prenatal tests and had me sign many documents.


I was so excited about the arrival of our sweetheart, I didn't bother to read them carefully.


This consent form must have been slipped in among them back then. Damien, you really will stop at nothing for Vivienne's perfume dreams.


I sat motionless by the window, clutching the printed divorce papers.


All night long, my heart felt as cold as death.


Early the next morning, Damien saw me staring blankly on the balcony.


Probably because he saw how down I was last night, he actually made coffee himself for once, and even prepared my favorite blueberry pancakes.


Chapter 2