She began picking them up, thinking nothing of it—until she reached his shirt. That same perfume again. Only this time it wasn’t faint. It was strong, clinging to the collar and cuffs. It filled the room in seconds. Julia froze. Her earlier doubts surged back with quiet clarity.
It wasn’t a passing scent. It was embedded in the fabric. This didn’t come from a handshake or a crowded elevator. This was close contact—something that lingered. She thought of the excuse he’d given last time. An older client. It didn’t hold anymore. It never really had.