Stella’s words were a clear, undisguised jab at Jaylene’s previously feigned illness during the family reunion.
Jaylene’s face turned pallid with anger. “You-“
Possibly anticipating another impulsive remark, Darcie finally intervened, “Stella, the essential oil you have isn’t made from roses. I detect scents of sandalwood, chamomile, and wild orchid, but not roses.”
Stella hesitated, furrowing her brows. “That’s not right. They specifically told me it was infused with roses. I bought it because roses are my favorite.”
Trevor’s eyelid twitched. ‘Huh? Wasn’t she obsessed with sunflowers?’ “Some sellers might intentionally claim certain ingredients to boost sales, especially in the field of fragrances. Ordinary users find it difficult to discern the exact additives, making them vulnerable to deception. You can come to our company next time you want some essential oils. Tell me the fragrance you desire, and I can personally help you create a blend,” Darcie replied softly.
Stella smiled. “Oh, I see. Thanks for the explanation, Darcie.”
“You’re welcome.”
Darcie’s eyes flashed with a hint of contempt. It seemed that Freesia’s daughter had not inherited her extraordinary sense of smell. She couldn’t even tell the difference between the two.
“Since Darcie is allergic to roses, I’ll take the flower with me later. I’ll take good care of it for you, Dad. Maybe I can revive it. Is that okay?”
Wenham was overjoyed. “That’s great! Be careful when moving it. I brought it back from abroad, and it’s quite delicate.”
Stella wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she thought she saw a trace of gloominess flash across Darcie’s face after her father’s reminder.
Stella pretended not to see it and smiled. “I’d also keep your gift safe and sound.”
As Stella went to her room to put away the presents, Trevor followed her.
He closed the door and asked, “Do you think her rose allergy is fake?”
“He’s actually very serious about it. From initially knowing nothing about flowers, he learned to fertilize, spray pesticides, prune, and graft the plant.
“Mom left seven or eight pots at the time. Once, Dad went on a business trip, and the weather suddenly turned cold. The housekeeper forgot to close the balcony window for several days.
“When Dad came back, the roses were all dead.”
When Wenham returned, his eyes were red and swollen as he tried to salvage what was left. Despite his efforts, not a single pot could be saved.
This incident had haunted Wenham for years. He searched for that variety of roses for a long time. Last year, while abroad, he finally found it and purchased it.
But Darcie was allergic to roses, breaking out in hives, so the plant had to stay outside. That particular breed, however, was fragile and couldn’t tolerate heat or cold. It always looked a bit sickly.
Even so, Wenham went to great lengths to transport the roses to Rivera, hoping they’d take root there.
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