All Chapters of Scent of my mistress : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The soft hum of the hairdryer filled the master bedroom as Lydia sat in front of her vanity, her movements unhurried, precise. Each stroke of her brush down her auburn hair was a ritual of composure. She had always believed power wasn’t loud; it was the calm in a storm, the quiet precision of a queen moving her chess pieces while others wasted energy on pawns.Last night had changed everything.Damian had come home as expected, filled with questions, suspicions, and unspoken guilt. He hadn't dared confront her outright. Instead, he had taken her—fierce, urgent—as though he could claim dominance through sex. But Lydia had given him what he wanted with a smile. Let him think he was in control.Foolish man.Her phone vibrated softly on the vanity. Lydia glanced at the screen without urgency. The message was from Mr. Kelvin—her discreet investigator.It’s done. Details are waiting. We found her pressure points.”Lydia's lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.She stood, smoot

Ava stood up from the bed and sat at the edge.The sound of her alarm had just pulled her out of sleep, but her body felt too heavy to move fast. She sat there for a few seconds, her hand brushing her hair back as her eyes adjusted to the morning light.She got up slowly, her bare feet touching the cold floor as she walked to the window. When she pulled the curtain aside, the sunlight hit her face sharply, making her blink a few times. She let out a soft yawn, not because she was tired, but because her mind was already filled with thoughts she didn’t want to face yet.Then she saw it—the small folded note on the glass table near the window.Lydia had dropped it before leaving last night. Ava didn’t even need to read it yet. She recognized that handwriting anywhere. Lydia’s handwriting had always been beautiful. Bold, clean strokes. Perfect, just like her.Ava picked up the note, her fingers slowly running across the letters, but her mind wasn’t on the paper. It was on Lydia.How could

Ava walked into the office that day with the same elegance she wore like armor — a black pencil skirt that hugged her hips, a silk blouse that caught the light, her heels clicking in deliberate rhythm against the polished floor. But no amount of poise could soften the heaviness that hung in the air.The moment she came out from the elevator, she felt it. Heads turned too quickly, conversations faltered and then resumed in hushed tones. The atmosphere wasn’t just tense — it was loaded.The reception area, usually alive with polite greetings and the low hum of keyboards, seemed charged with something darker. The HR assistant, who once smiled eagerly at her every morning, now gave a tight-lipped nod before glancing away. An intern near the copier avoided her gaze entirely, fumbling with a stack of papers.Her eyes were incapable of picking up what her ears could . Two junior analysts by the coffee station leaned in close, voices low but not low enough.“they said it was her. The slush fu

Damian’s eyes stayed glued to the last photograph, the edges cutting into his fingers from how hard he held it. He had seen many unsettling things in his life , boardroom betrayals, financial scandals, men turning on each other for power but nothing had hollowed him out like this.The image was burned into him: Lydia’s hand resting lightly on Ava’s thigh, her nails painted deep red, the same shade she used on nights she wanted him undone. Ava’s head was tilted toward her, lips parted just enough to look like they were sharing a secret… or about to share a kiss.Damian swallowed hard.The Lydia in that photo was a stranger ,intimate, dangerous, and undeniably complicit.A quiet hum from outside reached his ears, barely audible over the pounding in his head. He moved toward the window, and there she was — Lydia, in her silk blouse and black tailored pants, hair loose and falling over her shoulders, slipping into the driver’s seat of her car.No pause. No glance back toward the house.T

Back at her home, Ava woke to the heavy banging of her external gate. It was not the kind of sound that could be mistaken for a casual knock; it was urgent, almost desperate, as though whoever was out there had been waiting for hours and could not wait any longer.The morning was bright, and the sun had already claimed its place in the sky, streaming golden light through the half-drawn curtains. A soft breeze pushed against them, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly watered flowers from the garden. The mansion was quiet except for the rhythmic clinking of plates and the chatter of her maids somewhere downstairs.She lay there for a moment, her heart calm, her mind wandering lazily. She had not been expecting visitors. Her mornings were usually hers alone, slow, deliberate, free of surprises. But that banging at the gate was disturbing the calm she loved.With a small frown, she slipped out of bed and crossed the room, her bare feet brushing against the cool marble floor. Her si