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Chapter 37
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2025-08-25 22:24:19
Latest chapter
Scent of my mistress Chapter 43
The house was too quiet.Damian had been pacing for nearly an hour, his steps echoing against the polished floor, his thoughts louder than the silence around him. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, his tie long discarded on the couch. Every turn he made across the living room felt like running circles inside his own mind.Ava’s words from earlier How did Lydia know about the slush fund? echoed like a curse. He had brushed it off at the office, tried to stay stoic, but now, in the privacy of his home, the question clawed at him relentlessly.He remembered the night he had confronted Lydia.It had been late, the house bathed in shadow. He had slammed the door to her study open, waving the documents in his hand, his voice shaking with fury. “How did you know? Who told you about the fund?”Lydia had not denied it. She hadn’t even blinked. Instead, she looked up from her glass of whiskey, her expression calm, almost amused, as though she had been waiting for him to ask. “Does it matte
Scent of my mistress Chapter 42
The room was silent when Ava woke. Too silent.Her lashes fluttered open against the soft gray of morning light, filtering weakly through half-drawn curtains. The air carried the faint scent of silk, wine, and sweat, reminders of a night that should have broken her but instead left her strangely alert.Her hand stretched across the bed, fingers brushing the cool sheets where Lydia had been only hours ago. Empty. Cold. Lydia was gone.For one fleeting heartbeat, Ava’s chest tightened. She almost let herself believe that the night had been nothing more than a fever dream, the cruel whispers, the bruising kiss, the way their bodies clashed against the glass, desperate and destructive. But then her eyes landed on the nightstand.A glass rested there, half-filled with dark wine, the rim marked with a crimson smear of lipstick. Lydia’s lipstick.There was no note, no apology, no tender gesture. Just a stain. A mark of ownership, left behind like a mocking brand.Ava sat up slowly, the sheet
Scent of my mistress Chapter 41
Ava sat on the edge of her bed long after leaving Damian’s office. The air in her apartment was still, too still, as if holding its breath along with her. Her chest burned from the argument, her mind spiraling between fury and humiliation. She wanted to smash something, scream until her throat tore apart, but all she did was sit there with trembling fingers pressed to her temples.Her phone vibrated against the nightstand. She glanced down, half-expecting Damian again, but the name that flashed across the screen froze her. Lydia.The message was brief, precise, and terrifyingly calm.Meet me tonight. Landmine l Hotel. Suite 804. 9 PM. Do not be late.Ava’s heart lurched. Her first instinct was to throw the phone aside, pretend she had not seen it. But she knew she would go. She always went when Lydia summoned. No matter the bruises left behind, the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. Even now, when anger and fear made her chest tight, curiosity and desire tangled with them, pul
Scent of my mistress Chapter 40
The silence after Ava’s departure pressed into the room like smoke that refused to clear. Damian remained standing in the middle of his office, chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the door she had closed behind her. He had shouted until his throat burned, yet the anger did not ease. Instead, it clawed deeper, mixing with doubt, humiliation, and something far worse: fear.Her words lingered in the air, sharp and poisonousHe raked a hand through his hair, pacing in quick, clipped strides. He had expected betrayal in one form or another, yes but not from Lydia or Ava ,he never expected to be outplayed. It was as though every step he had taken in this dangerous dance had been predicted, redirected, turned against him.His gaze drifted to the polished glass of the window. Outside, the city moved in its usual rhythm, cars inching through the traffic, people carrying briefcases, lives unfolding with indifference to the chaos in his own. Damian place his palms on his head,his reflection stari
Scent of my mistress Chapter 39
Ava walked into the office that morning with no idea of the storm waiting for her. The sun was bright outside, the lobby unusually quiet, but the moment she reached the entrance to Damian’s floor she felt the shift in the air. He was there, standing rigid like a man carved out of stone, his face red with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.“Meet me inside. Now,” he ordered, his voice sharp enough to cut through the silence that echoed.Confusion twisted through her chest. Something was wrong. Badly wrong. She followed him, her heels clicking against the polished marble, each sound echoing like a countdown to her own undoing.Damian spun around before the door closed.His voice roared through the office, carrying the weight of weeks of frustration.“How could you, Ava? Going after my wife too? After everything, after all the times I stood by you, this is what you were doing behind my back?”The words hit her like glass shattering across her skin. Ava froze where she stood, her pulse
Scent of my mistress Chapter 38
The morning light did not soothe him.Damian had spent the night in fragments, half sitting, half pacing, half surrendering to exhaustion that never became sleep. When the sun finally pried its way into the room, pale and unforgiving, he felt as though it mocked him. Another day had begun, indifferent to the storm that had torn through his chest.Lydia moved about the room with effortless grace, as though she had not been the root of his torment. She poured herself tea, slid into her silk robe, and prepared for the day like a queen preparing for court. No apologies. No cracks. No hesitation.Damian watched her in silence, his jaw tight, his chest heavy. Every detail of her calm composure worked against him. He had gone all night without sleep, his thoughts tangling until they choked him, and here she was, still steady, still untouchable.At breakfast, he barely touched his food. Lydia, however, ate with slow precision, her spoon clicking softly against the porcelain, her face unreadab
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