It was after my death that Queenie finally achieved her aim—Preston officially became her boyfriend.

In a perverse search for thrills, she even engaged in an intense sexual act with Preston in the very room where I died, doing it directly in front of my portrait.

The horrific events of my past life flashed before my eyes. I instinctively gritted my teeth, a violent, raging fury coursing through every fiber of my being. It was only when my fingernails tore into my own flesh that the searing pain succeeded in wrenching my thoughts back to the present.

"What's the matter, Helena? You should really try this perfume," Queenie prompted as she batted her large eyes with a look of pure innocence, her harmless appearance giving absolutely no hint of her cruel and wicked nature.

She noticed that I didn't reach for the gift, so she gently extended the porcelain bottle containing the perfume.

I quickly shot up and stepped away from my desk. I pointed warily at the slightly cluttered surface and said, "You can just leave that there for the time being."

A flash of hostility briefly flickered across Queenie's features before she quickly composed herself.

She insisted, saying, "It was crafted by a local florist back in my hometown, and it's considered priceless. I spent over half of my paycheck on it. It's just a perfume, not poison. There's nothing to be so frightened of, Helena."

I noticed the gloves she was wearing and immediately guessed that the perfume wasn't just poisonous to inhale—touching the bottle itself could also cause serious harm.

Seeing that I still wouldn't take the perfume, Queenie suddenly bit her lower lip hard, tears spilling from her bloodshot eyes.

"I'm aware of my humble background and that this perfume isn't from a premium brand. It's only natural that you'd be unimpressed by it, but I just wanted to show my appreciation, Helena."

I had treated her like family, yet she wanted me dead. At that moment, she was even trying to play the victim and emotionally manipulate me. I wasn't going to let her do that to me.

I suppressed my rage and said with a chilling smile, "Your words are deeply hurtful, Queenie. I was the one who stayed behind to finish the backlog of files you left without even receiving a cent of overtime pay.

"Instead of acknowledging that, you seem to have forgotten everything I did for you, and you're even accusing me of looking down on you.

"I'm truly offended, Queenie. If I really looked down on you, would I have helped you at all? Just because I didn't take the perfume, you assumed I look down on you? That's far too much."

I made sure my voice quivered with suppressed tears as our colleagues turned their attention toward us.

They knew I had always stood up for Queenie and been good to her, so when they heard my distraught voice, they instantly jumped in to defend me.

"Helena has done countless favors for you, Queenie. How can you now accuse her of looking down on you?"

"I recall numerous times when you simply walked out the door, while Helena was stuck working well into the night in the office. What about you, Queenie? What exactly did you ever do for her in return?"

"I distinctly remember when our paychecks were delayed last month, Helena treated you to food so many times. You never once offered to treat her in return, and yet here you are, acting like the victim! You ought to learn to be a decent person, Queenie!"

"What's the brand of this perfume anyway? Why did it come in a plain porcelain bottle? And why are you wearing that disposable glove? Don't tell me that the perfume is actually toxic?"

They already held a poor opinion of Queenie. So while they defended me, they also seized the perfect opportunity to vent their own long-held dissatisfactions with her.

Queenie had a habit of playing the victim. If anyone dared to refuse one of her demands, she would instantly start crying to other colleagues, suggesting that her poor background made her an easy target for abuse.

Queenie's underlying message was always that her financial hardships entitled her to special treatment and deference from others.

It wasn't long before everyone figured out her true character, so they just stopped indulging her altogether.

Queenie's expression hardened as she stared intently at the perfume on the desk. She then forced a smile and said apologetically, "I'm so sorry for letting my temper get the best of me and saying the wrong thing, Helena. I'll just leave it on your desk for now. You'll know how wonderful it is once you use it.

"I could never bring myself to harm you, Helena. We're colleagues, after all."

I couldn't stand Queenie's hypocritical facade. I desperately wanted to smash that porcelain bottle right in her face, but I needed her to expose her true nature so I could execute my plan for revenge.

Forcing myself to feign indifference, I pursed my lips and said, "I'll give it a try another day, so just leave it there for the time being."

Queenie's expression instantly brightened. She stepped closer and enthusiastically looped her arm through mine, telling me that the perfume should be used within a week or its scent would fade.

I nodded my head in acknowledgment, though my mind was already racing. I frantically formulated a strategy.

The moment Queenie stepped out for the restroom, I quickly put on a mask and gloves before opening the porcelain bottle. I snapped a photo of the bottle and sent it to a friend of mine who specialized in fragrance packaging to create a replica. I even paid a considerable fee for its expedited delivery to the office.

I received the product right before I clocked out. I discreetly threw the contents of Queenie's perfume down the toilet and discarded the original porcelain bottle.

Over the next few days, Queenie kept throwing quick glances at my desk, confirming the porcelain perfume bottle was still there before nodding in satisfaction.

To gain further confirmation, she used any pretext to accompany me to the restroom. Her true intentions were to check whether the perfume had the desired effect on me.

Feeling wicked, I sprayed myself with garlic-infused water that carried a slight stench. Queenie was so delighted that her mouth momentarily convulsed in pleasure. She was confident the unpleasant smell meant the perfume was working.

Queenie had no idea she was walking into the trap I had painstakingly set for her.

I managed to put Preston off with various excuses when he repeatedly summoned me to his office, clearly hoping to get intimate during office hours.

Preston, sensing that I was deliberately pulling away from him, made a special trip that day—he showed up at the company dormitory with a bouquet of flowers in hand to see me.

"I heard that there's a new restaurant that has just opened in the old part of town today, darling. I thought it'd be nice for us to go check it out."

I stated indifferently, "I don't feel well, and I don't have an appetite for anything, so let's just schedule that for another time."

I simply turned off the light and offered no other explanation. Preston continued to knock at the door for a long time before finally giving up and walking away, utterly defeated.

Queenie listened attentively and, upon ascertaining I had no intention of leaving the dormitory, she quickly applied makeup, slipped into her heels, and hurriedly rushed out to follow Preston.

It wasn't long before Queenie posted an update to her social media. The post was geo-tagged at the newly established Westonian-style restaurant in the old part of town.

"If this is how desperate they are, then I'd love to see what tricks those two are up to now," I said before I bundled myself up and took the subway to the restaurant.

There, I saw Preston holding Queenie's finger in his mouth, giving her a heated look as his hand slipped inside her collar and began exploring her body.

Queenie took the opportunity to sit on his lap, giving him a seductive look. Her finger then trailed downward, causing Preston to instantly flush with excitement.

"I really have to go now, Pres. It would be bad if Helena found out about us."

Preston roughly yanked her arm, drawing Queenie into his embrace. He pulled her head down for a deep kiss so passionate that when it ended, a long, drawn-out strand of saliva stretched between them.

"What's the big deal? I'll just break up with her if it comes to that! That woman is nothing compared to you, Queenie. Helena's like a dead fish—nothing like how compelling you are!

"You and I have been seeing each other for over a year now. Do you think she's caught even a hint of what's going on between us?"

Queenie wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting his gaze with sultry eyes. "You're right! If she wasn't so dense, she wouldn't believe every word I say! You're so naughty, Pres!"

Preston affectionately flicked her nose, while his other hand continued to roam over her body. "You know what they say about women only falling for the bad guys! You totally love it when I'm being naughty with you, don't you, Queenie?"

"You're such a tease, Pres!"

I gritted my teeth in pure rage after realizing that they had been treating me with such ridicule. I had been nothing but sincere, yet my boyfriend and best friend had been entirely focused on scheming against me.

It was then that Preston asked, "Is there any progress with the perfume yet? I haven't noticed any significant change in her."

Queenie couldn't help but furrow her brow in response.

"That's quite odd. Is it because the perfume is too far away from her? I'll sneak it into her handbag next time. That'll guarantee results! You can rest assured that she already has a noticeable smell. It won't be long before I take her place and claim her wealth and exquisite beauty for myself."

Queenie's face twisted into an expression of utter mania, and then, in a gesture of shared malice and triumph, the couple clinked their glasses together.

It was just as I had expected—being in proximity to the cursed perfume bottle was enough to initiate the spell.

I immediately devised a plan and hailed a cab to the office. There, I retrieved the original porcelain bottle I had dumped in the trash can.

While Preston and Queenie were having a rendezvous in the hotel, I poured the last few drops of the cursed perfume into a bottle, mixing them with Queenie's personal perfume.

After that, I applied for leave at work, citing I needed some time off for recuperation, and arranged a trip with my colleagues.

During that time, Queenie tried to contact me countless times, but I refused to answer any of her calls.

Half a month later, my colleagues and I returned to the company dormitory, chatting lightheartedly. I had just opened the door when a thick, foul smell hit us. The sight that greeted us left everyone utterly shocked.