Sweet Revenge: He Will Regret Losing Me

Episode 1

Lyra's POV

“I saw your husband.”

Those three short words struck my phone screen like a hard slap in the middle of the pitch-black night. My heart immediately leaped into my throat. A moment later, accompanied by another brief vibration, a photo came through: Casian, my husband, was holding a long-haired woman tightly in his arms in a hotel corridor.

My breath caught in my chest. My mind immediately drifted back to Casian’s words the previous night. He had kissed my forehead and said goodbye before leaving on a business trip out of town. It was exactly the same excuse he had used three times that month, a pattern that had remained consistent throughout the past year. In our ten years of marriage, I had never once allowed suspicion to take root in my heart. I was fully aware of who I was—a chubby woman who was neither skilled at dressing up nor accustomed to pampering herself at beauty salons. Yet Casian had always held my fingers tightly, gazed deeply into my eyes, and assured me that physical beauty meant nothing compared to the sincerity of the souls that had brought us together all those years ago.

My memories drifted back to more than a decade ago, to a corner of a foreign city in the land of Uncle Sam. At the time, I was the rightful heiress to the Stevans family dynasty, exhausted from being surrounded by smooth-talking men in expensive suits who approached me solely because of the figures in my father's bank accounts. I had chosen to abandon every symbol of luxury and live a simple life until fate brought me together with Casian—a weary-looking man far from home who had shared half of his sandwich with me on a park bench. Casian had no idea who I truly was, and I had deliberately concealed my real identity so I could find love that was genuinely pure.

When Casian decided to start a small business, I quietly worked behind the scenes. Through an anonymous foundation called Alpa Stevans, funded by my mother's inheritance, I injected substantial capital to keep my husband's business running. Casian believed it was a stroke of luck brought about by a generous investor; he never knew that his guardian angel was the very wife who massaged his aching shoulders every night. I buried my true identity deep within myself to protect Casian's pride, ensuring that his self-esteem would never be diminished by living alongside the heiress of a powerful dynasty.

Before I even realized it, my feet had already carried me out of the house in the dead of night, braving the cold night breeze as I headed toward the address of the five-star hotel listed in the anonymous message. My heart was pounding wildly, and my fingers trembled violently as I stood in the hotel's magnificent lobby, its marble floors gleaming beneath the lights. Breathing heavily, I approached the reception desk and asked the staff to check the guest registry for the name Casian Pettel.

The receptionist's answer struck me with crushing force: there was no guest named Casian Pettel registered at the hotel.

A sudden sense of relief washed over me, lifting half the weight from my chest. My mind immediately began piecing together excuses to protect my husband's dignity. A luxury hotel, no registered name, and the late hour—all those pieces pointed to one comforting conclusion: the photo must have been an AI-generated fake deliberately spread by some troublemaker to destroy our marriage, which had stood unblemished for ten years.

Just as I was about to turn around and head home, my phone rang loudly. The screen displayed a video call from Casian. With trembling hands, I swiped the green button. My husband's face immediately filled the screen, revealing the neatly arranged background of an office, with stacks of documents scattered across his desk.

“Darling? Aren't you asleep yet?” Casian's deep voice sounded gentle, filled with the warmth that had always felt like home to me.

I tried to steady my voice, making it sound as normal as possible while hiding the sobs threatening to spill from my lips. “I... I just woke up because I was thirsty. What about you? Are you still working overtime at the office this late?”

“Yes, darling. These piles of client reports really won't let me leave,” Casian replied with a sincere smile, waving at the camera.

My conviction only grew stronger. This real-time video call was undeniable proof that my husband was working hard out of town, not staying at some hotel. I felt terribly guilty for ever allowing such an outrageous suspicion to cross my mind. After a brief conversation and making sure Casian would get some rest soon, the call ended. I then made my way home with a much lighter heart, erasing every trace of suspicion from my mind.

The following morning, the sun had not yet fully risen when a series of loud knocks echoed from the front door. Still wearing my pajamas and carrying our five-year-old son in my arms, I hurried to open it.

My brows furrowed deeply, and I was overwhelmed with confusion when I found Casian standing on the doorstep, wearing a wrinkled shirt and holding a small suitcase.

“Darling? Didn't you say you wouldn't be back until the day after tomorrow?” I asked in surprise, preparing to step forward and welcome him into my arms.

Casian flashed a broad smile, immediately pulling me into his embrace before kissing the top of our son's head. “My work finished earlier than expected, darling. I missed you and our son so much that I decided to take the first flight home this morning.”

I stood frozen in his embrace, feeling the familiar warmth that had always comforted me. However, just as he tilted his head beside my neck, my eyes accidentally caught a tiny detail that made the blood in my entire body suddenly run cold.

On the slightly open collar of Casian's white shirt was a faint smear of bright pink blush—a barely visible lipstick stain.

My heart began pounding furiously. My throat tightened as though a sharp thorn were blocking the passage of air. My eyes remained fixed on the pink stain, which stood out against the white fabric of Casian's shirt collar.

“Casian... what's this?” I asked breathlessly, my voice trembling uncontrollably. I raised my hand and pointed directly at the unfamiliar stain with my shaking fingers.

Casian chuckled softly, his voice flowing gently into my ears. With an effortless and almost instinctive movement, he raised his hand and playfully pinched both my cheeks, a tender gesture he often used to calm my occasional fussiness.

“You really are something else, darling. Why are you panicking like that?” Casian said with a warm smile, gazing directly into my eyes without the slightest hesitation. “Have you forgotten, hm? This is the shirt I wore last night before leaving. You were the one who showered my entire face and neck with kisses, acting so clingy as you saw me off. You even said you couldn't bear to let me go so far away.”

Casian leaned closer and briefly kissed the tip of my nose. “I noticed your lipstick stain on this collar back then, but I deliberately didn't ask my assistant to have it washed. I wanted to keep wearing it so I could feel close to you and ease how much I missed you during the trip.”

At his explanation, my body suddenly went limp. Memories of the previous night spun rapidly through my mind. He was right. I had indeed cried hysterically in his arms, clung to him affectionately, and showered his face and neck with countless kisses using my favorite pink lipstick before he stepped out of the house. In an instant, an overwhelming wave of guilt crashed over me. I felt like the most foolish and cruel wife in the world for ever suspecting a husband who had been so sincere toward me. I hurriedly threw myself into his arms, crying tears of emotion against the broad chest of the man I loved so dearly.

I tightened my embrace even further, but suddenly, the phone in his trouser pocket vibrated. I reached into his pocket and took out his phone. The name of an unfamiliar woman was displayed clearly on the screen, making my chest begin to churn violently once again.