PERFUME DYNASTY: Scented Lies And Silk Promises

CHAPTER ONE: Ashes of Glory The private plane touched down at Hillwood International Airport at 6:47 AM,It had been six years since she had witnessed this panorama, since she had boarded a plane behind the proud nod of her father and a full scholarship to Anderson Business School clutched tightly in her hand as if it were a magic ticket to her tomorrow. How naive she'd been. "Miss Meek?" Her voice was gentle, trained. "We've completed our landing procedures. You can get down when you’re ready." The terminal was crowded with morning commuters. Abigail wove through the crowds with ease, her heels clicking against the slippery floor in a recognizable but alien beat. But everything was different. Her phone rang in her pocket. She didn't need to remove it to know what it was another alert from her bank app, another assurance that her account balance was declining rapidly. She had been surviving on savings and a merger pay check as a teaching assistant for the past three months, ever since the panic email from her dad's lawyer appeared in her inbox like a gigantic wake-up call. URGENT: Liquidation proceeding of Meek Fragrances in progress. Your prompt return required. Abby read those words seventeen times until finally they made sense. Meek Fragrances her family, her heritage, her entire future was being dismantled piece by piece, sold to the highest bidder like merchandise in a sale-of-the-day ad in a department store. Abigail looked around frantically, searching for a person she knew her father had assured her a car would be sent but instead, she saw him. Ethan. "Abby!" He flashed a smile, but his eyes didn't smile much. He hugged his arms around her. "Man, it's great to see you. You look terrific. Like you just walked out of a magazine or something." "And you look like you haven't slept for a week," said Abigail, stepping back to stare more seriously at his face. "Something is troubling you, Ethan? Your messages have been unclear, to say the least." The smile went away. "Okay, that. Maybe we should talk in the car." "He sold the BMW last month," Ethan replied, responding to her verbal Freestyling. "I had to use the money for Dad's medical care." Abby stopped dead in her tracks. "Medical bills? Whatever medical bills? Ethan, what the heck is happening?" He did not look at her as he stored her bags in the trunk. "Get in. I will explain all along the way to the hospital." "Hospital?" "I lied." He shut the trunk firmly. "I'm sorry, okay? I lied so that you did not have to worry. I did not want you to give up everything and return home prior to graduation. But it does not matter anymore as you are home, and you have to listen to the truth." It started six months ago. A business deal went bad. A contract their father signed in good faith, not knowing it was a trap. Charlotte their cousin, raised by their father after her parents died in a car crash, and treated like a daughter had been working with Fontaine Group the whole time. She had shared their special perfume formulas, which took generations to create and perfect. She had persuaded their father to invest in a joint venture that was just a fake company made to take Meek Fragrances' money. "Dad tried to fix it," Ethan said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "He took a loan on the house, sold his things, and even asked old business friends for loans. But everyone knew the company was failing. No one wanted to lose everything with it." "And the hospital?" asked Abigail in a very gentle tone. "Stroke. Three weeks ago. Stress induced it," Ethan broke. "He's okay now, but Abby. he didn't come out of it. He may not come out of it." "There's more," he whispered. "The debt. It isn't just the company. Dad pledged to cover many of the loans. If we can't cover." He stopped, but Abigail knew. "How much?" she asked. "How much? With interest and penalties?" Ethan sneered bitterly. "Ten billion dollars. Plus, or minus a few million." "And Lily?" she asked, aghast for her little sister. "Still in school. She has been informed about Dad, but I have not been specific about the balance. She still believes we can make it work. Perhaps if we sell the house and clear out the remainder of stock." He shook his head. "I didn't have the courage to tell her it wouldn't make much of a difference." When they got to the hospital, Abby wasn't prepared. Victor Meek who stood tall, had a loud laugh, and could tell what a perfume was made of just by smelling it. The man in the hospital bed looked weak, surrounded by tubes, wires, and machines that made beeping sounds to show his heartbeat. His face was pale, his cheeks were sunken in, and his talented hands, hands that made perfumes for movie stars and royalty, were still on the white sheets. "Hey, Dad," whispered Ethan as he went to the bed. "Abby's back. She just came home, just like I said she would." "Oh, I'm so sorry", she murmured, shuddering. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I should have been there." They spent an hour with him. Ethan told her everything about the creditors who called every day, the lawyers who had begun to take the company's remaining assets, and the board members who left when trouble began. Charlotte seemed safe from all this. She had hidden her actions well, and the money she took was lost in a network of foreign accounts that would take many years and a lot of money in legal fees to sort out. "Lily has been waiting to have lunch with us. I didn't give her a heads-up that you'd be arriving ahead of time. I figured it'd be a nice surprise," Ethan stated finally. "I'll make it right," she whispered, holding his hand fast. "I don't know how, but I'll make it right. I'll promise you that." Lily arrived fifteen minutes late, bursting in with a frenzied energy that only eighteen-year-olds possess. "Abby!" She almost knocked her sister over in a hug that smelled of paint and perfume. "Oh my God, you're really here! You're actually here! When did you arrive? Why didn't you call me? I'd have come to get you myself from the airport" " Surprise, “Abigail answered, squeezing back just as hard. "I wanted to see you and Ethan together. How are you, Lil? How's school?" "School is fun! I've got a cute project for my design class we have to design bottle ideas for an imaginary brand of perfume, and I've been thinking a lot about Dad and the company and the nice bottles we used to have back home." She broke off, her excitement dying. "Sorry. I know it's hard to talk about." "It's okay," she said, but really it wasn't. "Tell me about your project. I want to hear it all." After lunch, Ethan took them home the Meek family estate in the fancy Belmont Heights neighbourhood. Or rather, what was left of it. The "FORECLOSURE" sign on the front lawn felt like a harsh reminder, with big red letters showing their failure to everyone. The gardens that had once been carefully taken care of were now wild, the fountain in the circular driveway was empty and broken, and several windows on the second floor were covered up. "It belongs to the bank now," said Ethan as the three of them sat in the car, unwilling to budge. "We have until the end of the month to clear out our personal belongings, and that when it goes to auction." "Here I spent my childhood," stated Abigail, her tone hollow. "Mom installed those rose bushes by her own hand. Dad proposed to her near that fountain. We learned how to ride bicycles near that driveway." "I know." His tone was bitter. "I'm sorry, Abby. I really am sorry." They sat quietly, three siblings looking at the body of their past, until the sun started to go down and the neighbours began to watch. That night, she was restless through nervous arithmetic that resulted in but a single conclusion: they're drowning, and there wasn't a soul to save them. She thought about her degree it was new, but it counted for nothing in this instance. She thought about her father in that bed, his work undone by the man he had most trusted. She thought about the smile of Charlotte, the way that she had spoken of Victor as "Uncle Vic," and birthday parties, and every July Fourth and every Thanksgiving dinner, and every outing that they did as a family. The betrayal hurt like acid in her chest. Her phone vibrated on the coffee table. It was likely another email from somebody she owed cash to. Perhaps it was another rejection from among the fifty job openings she had applied to over the past month. She picked it up, looking hard at the bright phone in the darkness. But it wasn't a rejection or a creditor. It was a news alert that came from the Hillwood Business Journal. TING GROUP ANNOUNCES ALL-TIME QUARTERLY PROFITS: High-End Industry-Dominating CEO Leonard Ting Abby sat up, her heart beating fast. She clicked the article and started to read. Ting Group, Hillwood's biggest luxury conglomerate, announced today that its perfume segment has reported record profits for the third consecutive quarter. Its 30-year-old CEO, Leonard Ting, has aggressively increased the company's share in the luxury perfume market, acquiring smaller brands and launching new lines that have captured significant market share. "The fragrance industry is experiencing a renaissance," said Ting in a statement. "Consumers are seeking unique, high-quality fragrances with a story to tell. Ting Group is positioned to provide and exceed those expectations." The company's success comes after several competing brands hit financial difficulty, including once-dominant Meek Fragrances, which filed for bankruptcy protection last month… Abigail stopped reading. Her hands shook, anger and something else something cold and calculating running through her veins. She opened her laptop and began searching. Within an hour, she'd compiled a file on the CEO of Ting Group that would have impressed her old professors. Born with a silver spoon but had brought Ting Group to levels much higher than his birthright. Never married but regularly spotted with models and socialites at charity functions. Graduated top of his class at Westridge Business School. Spoke six languages. Was a black belt in Krav Maga. Played classical piano. Donated millions to children's hospitals while, meanwhile, destroying competitors without mercy. A contradiction in an Armani suit. Abigail looked at his photo on the screen chiselled jaw, grey eyes that seemed to look right through the camera lens, dark hair perfectly styled. He was handsome in the way that powerful men often were, but his face was cold, calculating. This wasn't a man who sympathized or regretted. This was a man who saw the world as a chessboard and everyone else as pieces to be used or discarded. This was the man who had toppled her father, deliberately or simply as collateral damage in his quest for market dominance. A plan formed in her mind. It was crazy, probably stupid, and near certain to backfire. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and Abigail Meek had nothing left to lose. If she couldn't beat Leonard Ting, then maybe she could join him. Get close to him. Learn his secrets. Find a way to reclaim her family's legacy from within his empire. She looked at the clock: 2:47 AM. Six hours from now, Ting Group headquarters would be open for business. Abigail got out her best suit navy blue Armani, which still fit her like a glove. She looked at her reflection in the mirror with a devilish smile on her face and said to herself…. “I will make them pay”.