The next morning, a company-wide email went out.
Subject: New Brand Direction - Serena Chase.
Vivian read it on her phone. She had been assigned as the "liaison" for the transition. It was a punishment. Julian wanted to rub her nose in it, or maybe he just thought she was the only one efficient enough to handle the logistics.
She entered the boardroom for the strategy meeting at 10:00 AM.
The smell hit her immediately. Stale coffee. Old donuts. And over it all, a heavy, cloying scent of lilies.
Her stomach lurched violently.
She swallowed hard, grabbing a bottle of ice water from the center of the table. She sat in the corner, as far away from the food as possible.
Julian entered with Serena.
Serena was glowing. She wore a white dress that looked suspiciously bridal. She acted the gracious winner, smiling at everyone.
Vivian, darling, so good of you to help, Serena cooed, placing a hand on Vivian's shoulder.
Vivian nodded, afraid to open her mouth. If she spoke, she might vomit.
The Product Manager stood up. "We have the new perfume samples for the 'Serena' line."
He passed around test strips.
One scent was heavy musk and vanilla. It was Serena's signature scent.
Serena picked one up and waved it enthusiastically. "Oh, Jay, smell this! It's divine." She thrust the scented strip toward Julian, but in her excitement, she waved it right under Vivian's nose as she turned.
The smell was thick, oily, suffocating.
It triggered her gag reflex instantly.
Vivian clamped a hand over her mouth. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
Excuse me, she mumbled.
She rushed out of the room. She ran down the hallway.
She barely made it to the executive washroom. She kicked open a stall and fell to her knees.
She vomited until there was nothing left but acid.
She sat on the cold tile floor, shaking. She flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth at the sink.
She heard footsteps.
Vivian?
It was Julian. He was standing at the entrance of the bathroom. The door was propped open.
He frowned. He looked at her pale face, the sweat on her forehead. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Are you sick? he asked.
Vivian gripped the porcelain sink. Her knuckles were white. She knew he was remembering her "hypothetical" question from yesterday.
It's stress, she said. Her voice was raspy. "An ulcer. My doctor gave me medication for it."
Julian didn't look convinced. He stared at her.
Vivian reached into her pocket. Her hand trembled as she pulled out the bottle she had labeled "Ulcer."
She shook a pill into her hand-a prenatal vitamin that looked like a generic capsule-and swallowed it dry, right in front of him.
She held up the bottle so he could see the handwritten label.
See? she rasped. "Just an ulcer."
Julian read the label. His shoulders relaxed slightly. The suspicion faded from his eyes.
You always had a weak stomach, he said, dismissing the thought.
He didn't step closer. He didn't offer to help.
Take some time off after the launch, he said. He sounded almost kind. Or maybe he just didn't want a sick employee infecting the workspace.
Vivian nodded, not turning around to face him.
He left.
Vivian looked in the mirror. She looked ghostly. There were dark circles under her eyes.
She leaned against the sink, breathing hard. That was too close.
She returned to the meeting.
As she sat down, her phone lit up.
It was a text from an unknown number.
This is Mark, Lily Evans' agent. We need to talk.
Vivian looked at Julian, who was laughing at something Serena said.
She texted back: "Meet me at the coffee shop downstairs in 10. I'll help you sue us."
