Melany realized she was trapped, cornered by the two people in front of her. Anger flared inside her chest.
“Since Mr. Lloyd and the judge have spoken, I’ll consider it my mistake. Prolonging this is a waste of everyone’s time. So, fine, I’ll admit defeat. You can all leave now, and let’s assume Allison is Scarlet Snake.”
The unspoken message in her words was strong. Her eyes, slightly reddened, reinforced this, suggesting she was a victim of Allison's influence and her group's power, leaving her no choice but to concede.
“Melany, what are you so afraid of?” Colton asked harshly, grabbing her wrist. His gaze shifted to Allison, filled with disdain. “Haven’t you done enough? Even with the truth before you, you’re still lying. If you confess to cheating on me today and apologize to Melany, maybe I’ll show some mercy.”
Melany whispered, “No need, Colton. You don’t have to do that. Everyone knows Mr. Lloyd controls everything here. I lost fair and square. No apology is necessary.”
Rebecca, already stunned by Colton’s audacity, was speechless, watching them shift the blame onto Allison. “Do any of you think before you speak? You demand proof, but have none. You’re making wild guesses. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Allison was your mother, you’re so obsessed with her!” she mocked.
Allison looked at Colton in disbelief. “I didn’t realize how blind you’ve been.” Her calm voice held biting sarcasm, making Colton feel his words were meaningless, like a child’s tantrum.
Under everyone’s gaze, Allison calmly picked up Melany’s perfume bottle and sniffed it. “Cedarwood, musk, and violet. The base is similar to mine, but you’ve omitted the rosemary. Can you tell, Melany?”
Melany froze, realizing she couldn't reproduce the original scent. Allison’s voice softened, but her focus remained. “Cedarwood is cool, musk is heavy, and violet is light. You got the proportions right, but missed the rosemary. That’s the difference.”
The rosemary was key. It tempered the musk and lifted the cedarwood, allowing its fragrance to blossom. Allison’s tone shifted to one of deep concentration, the kind she displayed when discussing perfumery. She'd diagnosed the problem simply by smelling Melany’s work. “Your proportions are off. Musk is the base. For a lighter fragrance, you had to balance it, not just reduce the amount. The result is superficial and cheap; it lacks depth.”
Allison’s detailed explanation was easily understood. Even Melany felt her heart pound: Allison had seen through her, analyzing the entire process and pointing out every flaw.
Forcing a thin smile, Melany replied, “You know your craft. But it only shows we share similar techniques. That’s all.”
Melany kept her voice steady, despite her fraying nerves. Allison might know perfumes, but she couldn't be Scarlet Snake! Melany’s research indicated Scarlet Snake was over sixty.
“And, Allison, I’m not dwelling on this. Consider it your victory. We’re unusually in sync, that’s all. No need to argue.” His words were laced with subtext. Even similar base notes proved nothing. Many perfumers refine creations for years before release. As long as the chronology couldn't be proven, Melany was confident her lie would remain hidden.
Allison, amused, commented, “So you think a shared base note constitutes plagiarism?”
“I never said that,” Melany replied, her kind smile firm. “I think we’re extraordinarily in sync. It’s unfortunate others doubt us, throwing around accusations like plagiarism.” With the contest anonymous, the real Scarlet Snake was unlikely to come forward. The argument over the base note seemed a dead end, and Melany was counting on it.
“It annoys me that he’s always on top of things, especially proportions.” Allison’s sarcasm was evident. “This perfume used a temperature-contrasting mixing technique. I’ve had detailed records of it on my phone for eight years, though they were never public. So I have the chronology, the technique, and the test. Would you like to see it?”