Lavinia paris's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Lavinia stood at the edge of the empty plot where her perfume garden would rise, if she could keep the dream from collapsing before it started. She needed rare plants to draw the kind of patrons who wouldn't waste time on anything common. The letter had arrived that morning, written on heavy paper that smelled faintly of bergamot. The grower she'd spent three months courting had withdrawn his agreement. Someone else had bought exclusive rights to his entire lavender crop—the rare highland variety that bloomed silver-violet and carried notes most commercial fields couldn't touch. The certificate she'd kept in her desk drawer, the one guaranteeing her access, now meant nothing. She traced the route to the grower's estate in her mind, watching the landscape shift from her modest holdings to the hills where old money lived. The competitor's manor rose there like a wedding cake, all towers and balconies that announced generations of unbroken wealth. They didn't need to charm anyone. They just bought what they wanted and locked the doors behind them. Lavinia folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket. She couldn't outspend them, but she could still outmaneuver them. The birthmark on her cheek caught the morning light as she turned back toward town. She had other growers to visit, and this time she'd bring more than certificates and polite requests.