Chapter 3: The Scent of Secrets

Chapter 3: The Scent of Secrets

“You want to learn? Read. That’s all you’ll do.”

I sat frozen. My mind blank, my heart shattering silently.

Then a shadow moved in the farthest corner of the library.

I blinked, uncertain if my mind was playing tricks.

The lights dimmed, and a low hum filled the air—like strings tightening, ready to snap.

“You look like a ghost in your own life.”

That voice.

I turned slowly.

He was there—half-wrapped in shadow, leaning casually against the bookshelf as if he belonged to the darkness itself. Like he had never left.

Travis.

My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.

He was dressed all in black, his coat flowing like liquid night. A silver chain glinted coldly at his throat. His icy blue eyes locked onto mine, burning with a wild, almost dangerous intensity that rooted me to the spot.

“What… what are you doing here?” My voice was barely a whisper.

He stepped forward, slow and certain, his presence a storm barely contained. The faint scent of sandalwood and cold air curled around him like a secret.

“You called me.”

“No,” I said, swallowing hard, trying to steady my racing pulse. “I didn’t.”

“Not with words. With ache. With loneliness.” His smile was crooked, tragic, and dangerous all at once.

“I don’t understand.”

He circled the sofa like a predator, never breaking eye contact.

“This world of yours is crumbling,” he said softly. “And no one notices—except me.”

“Why are you really here?” My voice cracked, fear creeping into the edges.

“To show you what they’ve hidden.”

He reached out and brushed the edge of my dress with his knuckles—a feather-light touch that sent a jolt straight to my core.

Behind him, the shadows shifted and parted like curtains revealing a black void. From within, whispers spilled forth—soft, broken, haunting. Voices I knew, twisted into something unrecognizable.

“Do you feel it?” Travis asked, voice low, dangerous. “The truth clawing its way to the surface?”

I shook my head, overwhelmed. “This is a nightmare.”

“No.” He moved closer, his breath warm against my skin. “This is awakening.”

My head spun. I was on the edge of a precipice, heart pounding like thunder, wind roaring in my ears.

“You’ve been living in someone else’s story.”

“A daughter. A doll. A dream.”

“But this world? This truth? It was written for you.”

His hand found my cheek.

I didn’t pull away.

His skin was cold, a stark contrast to the fire blooming beneath it. My eyes fluttered closed as I leaned in, drawn to him like a moth to flame.

“Why me?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he leaned in, his lips hovering a breath from mine—soft, impossible, tempting.

“I’m offering you the pen, Kourtney.”

“Write your story.”

“Or let them write your ruin.”

His hand slipped away before our lips could meet.

Suddenly, the chandelier above exploded in a rain of glittering shards, catching moonlight like a thousand falling stars.

I screamed, the sound raw and shattering.

I hit the floor, breath knocked out of me.

When I looked up—

He was gone.

No footsteps. No shadows. No trace.

Only the silence.

And a letter.

Folded neatly on the black velvet sofa.

My hands trembled as I crawled toward it.

I unfolded the paper carefully.

The choice begins at midnight.

Follow the roses.

Or stay and rot in your golden cage.

My breath hitched.

A shiver ran down my spine.

The room felt colder now.

More empty.

Was he a ghost? A hallucination? A warning?

Or was he… mine?

My fingers curled around the letter, holding it like a lifeline.

For the first time in my life—

I wanted to run.

Run away from the prison of my family.

Run toward the mystery he had ignited.

Run to follow the roses.

Run to him.

But the clock was ticking.

Midnight was coming.

And with it, my fate.

My vision blurred with tears of rage as I stared daggers at Mom. The heavy weight of betrayal pressed on my chest, suffocating me. I pushed myself up from the leather chair, voice shaking but fierce. “I’m going to tell Daddy everything you’ve done!” I said, my words slicing through the cold silence like a blade. The anger I’d buried for so long finally erupted.

Without waiting for her reply, I stormed out of the library, my heart pounding wildly. In my rush, I forgot my phone on the table, its soft glow abandoned among scattered papers.

I paused halfway down the grand staircase when I noticed something strange. The housemaids—usually bustling about with their chores—were gathered in a tight huddle by the kitchen entrance. Their faces were pale, voices hushed but urgent. I couldn’t catch their words, but the anxiety radiating from them was unmistakable.

I shook my head, unwilling to get distracted. That wasn’t my problem. Not now. I had bigger battles to fight. I hurried to my room and slammed the door behind me, turning the lock with a sharp click.

No one was going to disturb me—not Mom, not anyone. I needed space to breathe, to think, to unravel this tangled mess.

My hands trembled as I pulled my laptop from the drawer. The cold metal felt heavy, like a burden I was forced to carry. I opened it and logged into F******k, my heart sinking before I even saw the screen.

You’ve been removed from the group.

One notification after another appeared in cold succession. Every single group chat I was part of—deleted. Removed. Blocked.

I stared numbly at the screen, unwilling to believe it.

I clicked into the last message thread, hoping for some sign, some explanation. But the words I found shattered me.

“Her dad is a scammer! Don’t let her fool you.”

“Oh my God! Maybe all the money she used for our Dior bags came from a scam!”

“I’m returning my bag. I don’t want anything from her anymore.”