All Chapters of The Perfume On His Collar: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The afternoon sky had that heavy, colorless weight that promised rain but never delivered it. The air in the Bennett house felt the same a held breath that wouldn’t release. Clara moved through the rooms as though they were stage sets she no longer believed in. She straightened cushions, folded throws, wiped spotless counters, each small movement an attempt to steady herself against the quiet. Mark had texted at lunch: Working late again. Don’t wait up. A line so familiar now it might as well have been a lullaby. She tried to eat dinner with Ethan, but his chatter only made her smile too tightly. When he spoke of Ms. Rowen again how she’d helped him draw clouds that looked like real ones, how she’d said he had an “artist’s imagination” Clara felt something tremor deep in her ribs. A pulse of envy, perhaps, or the echo of suspicion taking new shape. After he went to bed, she lingered outside his room, watching the small shape of him under the quilt, the gentle rise and fall of hi

Dawn leaked into the house like a secret that wanted to be kept.Clara sat at the kitchen table, still in last night’s clothes, watching the light crawl across the floor. The world had gone muffled; even the birds outside sounded distant, as if someone had closed a door between her and the living.She could not recall falling asleep, or if she had slept at all. The kettle whistled, and the sound stabbed through the hush so sharply that she almost screamed. She turned it off, hands shaking.Upstairs, Ethan stirred.For a moment she thought: How do I tell him? Then: Tell him what? She had not yet said the words aloud, because saying them would make them true.She forced herself up the stairs.The bedroom door stood open. The bed was rumpled, one pillow on the floor.No sign of Mark. Her breath came shallow. On the carpet, faint brownish smears where she had tried—she remembered water, towels, the frantic erasing. It hadn’t worked. The shape of the night still pressed on every

Chapter 6 – The Echo of RainThe police station smelled faintly of coffee and damp carpet.Clara sat across from Detective Harris, a man whose tired eyes seemed to have seen too many stories that didn’t end well.He leafed through the folder she’d brought, the papers already curling at the edges.Every so often, he would glance at her not unkindly, but with the slow, careful measure of someone deciding whether to believe what he was hearing.“So,” he said finally, resting his elbows on the desk, “you’re saying this teacher Ms. Rowen manipulated you into thinking your husband was having an affair?”Clara nodded. “She wanted to destroy us. To make me doubt everything. It started small notes, texts, rumors. And then… the folder. She knew things no one else could’ve known.”“About the accident?”“Yes. She blamed Mark for the collapse. Her brother died there. She told me it was about justice.”Clara’s voice cracked on the last word. “But it wasn’t. It was revenge.”Detective Harris tap

Chapter 8 – The Shape of SilenceThe next morning came with a deceptive calm, all soft light and birdsong, as if the world hadn’t tilted again in the night. But the moment Clara opened her eyes, she knew something had changed. The house felt different heavier, like it was holding its breath.She stood by the window, staring at the faint imprint still clinging to the glass. Keep digging. The condensation had long since faded, yet the words remained burned into her mind.Her phone buzzed. Detective Harris.“Morning,” she answered, her voice hoarse.“Morning,” he replied. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”She hesitated. “Not really.”He sighed. “Listen, forensics went over the warehouse again. We found fresh tyre tracks, but no footprints. Whoever was there knew how to cover their trail.”“And Rowen?”“No sign. But there’s something else.” He paused. “The coordinates she sent you they weren’t random. That warehouse sits on the same grid as one of the original construction zones tied to Projec

Chapter 10 – The Reckoning GlassThe door slammed shut behind Clara, muting the storm outside. The cabin smelled of smoke and damp earth. A single lamp burned on the table, casting a fragile pool of light across the room.Rowen locked the door, then crossed to the window and drew the curtains. Her movements were quick, deliberate, rehearsed the motions of someone who’d spent too long running.Clara stood frozen. “I thought you were dead.”Rowen didn’t turn. “You’re not the first to think that.”“What happened at the warehouse? You vanished.”“I didn’t vanish,” Rowen said quietly. “I was taken. They wanted the drive. I gave them a decoy.”Clara’s pulse thudded. “Then the real one”“Hidden.” Rowen finally faced her. “And if you’re here, it means Harris didn’t make it.”Clara’s throat tightened. “He-he told me to run.”A flicker of something sorrow, maybe guilt crossed Rowen’s face. “He was a good man once. But they had him by the throat. Same as me.”“You worked for them,” Clara said, v