Chapter 28: The Jasmine Throne
The jasmine scent of Donna Isabella Moretti's perfume was a weapon.
Élise knew that now. She had learned it in the garden of the Varese estate, when Isabella had looked at her like something scraped from the bottom of an expensive shoe. She had learned it in the west wing, standing in Sofia's preserved bedroom, breathing in the ghost of a girl who had been erased. She had learned it tonight, watching Isabella smile at the sight of her own son publicly crowning a French intern as the future of the Moretti empire.
Jasmine meant danger. Jasmine meant Isabella was already three moves ahead.
But Élise was done waiting for the next move to land on her.
She handed her champagne flute to a passing waiter without looking at him. She smoothed the emerald velvet over her hip, feeling the weight of every stitch she had cut and sewn herself in eighteen furious, deliberate hours. She had built this dress to be armor. It was time to wear it like one.
