The Fragrance Queen's Final Note novel Chapter 3

Queenie found the situation both infuriating and laughable.

She had noticed long ago that this girl wasn't as innocent as other kids her age. She was an expert at currying favor with Zander, a stark contrast to how she treated her.-

Before discovering the affair, Queenie hadn't read too much into it. But looking back, all the girl's behaviors were clearly orchestrated by her mother.

To have a five-year-old child parade around with an adult toy to frame her—Renata definitely had an ulterior motive.

As for what that motive was, she wasn't sure yet.

Her cold gaze landed on the lying child, and she asked sharply, "Romy, are you absolutely certain you took this from my room?"

"Yes! From under your pillow!" The little girl lied without blinking.

"That doesn't belong to me. As for where it came from, I suggest you ask Dr. Whitlock."

Queenie directed her piercing gaze at Renata.

The therapist quickly pulled her daughter behind her defensively. "Children don't lie. Why deny it, Queenie? We all understand Zander's condition. It's completely normal for you to have physical needs."

"So I have physical needs, but you don't? My husband is incapacitated, and you're divorced. What makes you so sure this is mine?"

"I don't need things like that..." Her eyelashes fluttered slightly.

"Why wouldn't you? Is someone already taking care of you?" Queenie pressed relentlessly.

Zander finally lost his patience, or perhaps his guilt kicked in. "Enough! We're talking about you. Why are you dragging Dr. Whitlock into this?"

Cold fury crackled in his dark eyes. "You're just too idle, which is why your mind wanders to things like this. Dr. Whitlock is a dedicated professional. She's not like you."

With that, he took Romy's hand. Looking like a picture-perfect family of three, they walked away, disappearing from her sight.

Queenie’s vision blurred slightly as her mind drifted back to the day she first met him.

The cafeteria was noisy, the crowd was bustling, and he had stood there with one hand casually in his pocket, chatting with his friends. His white shirt was pristine, framing his sharp collarbones. His expression shifted between serious focus and easy smiles.

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