Lydia Byron NovelI Lost My Marriage to His Mistress but Made Them Regret Every Move

The moment the mistress appeared on my husbands screen, the world treated me like the problem.
She mocked me. Strangers harassed me. My husband defended her at every turn.
So I stopped trying to save the marriage they had already burned down.
I cleared my name, exposed their tactics, and dismantled every lie they used against me.
They thought I would collapse under pressure. Instead, I roseand now theyre the ones scrambling to survive the fallout.
During the company's video conference, a different girl's face appeared on Byron Adams' screen. The girl, seemingly innocent, was playing with his computer, completely oblivious to the fact that the camera was on. It wasn't until Byron returned from the bathroom that she said in a sweet tone, "I didn't know you were in a meeting. You promised to spend three days with me, but now you've been in meetings for days. How annoying."
The colleagues who had been speaking earlier fell silent. Everyone waited to see how I would react. After all, they had witnessed more than a few of our arguments in the office before. But this time, I didn't make a scene. Instead, I coldly told the colleague, "Please continue, don't mind the irrelevant things."
I watched as the room became quiet, and my eyes focused on Byron's screen where the girl was still playfully cuddling him. I ignored it and asked the colleague to continue.
If this had happened at another time, I would have probably snapped and confronted Byron, but today, I was calm.
After all, Byron never let me, his wife, touch his computer.
The way the girl was interacting with it seemed so familiar, and their closeness was undeniable. I had never seen him like this before.
Every time I tried to be affectionate with him, he would coldly push me away, saying, "Lydia, don't you have your own things to do? We're adults. Just don't do this."
Even when I wanted to use his computer, he would immediately take it away, saying he didn't like anyone touching it.
As the meeting continued, my mind kept returning to these thoughts until Byron called me and asked, "Did you see what happened just now?"
I replied, my tone calm, "See what? I don't have time to pay attention to things that aren't work-related."
I could almost hear him sigh with relief on the other end of the line. Then, I added, "Did you do anything?"
He quickly explained himself, and after listening, I nodded and hung up the phone. For the first time, I didn't argue with him.


He probably didn't expect me to hang up, so he sent a follow-up message explaining again.
I ignored it, replying with a simple "OK".
His dissatisfaction with my indifferent attitude was clear.
[Byron, I don't want to argue with you.] I replied and then turned on the "Do Not Disturb" mode for his chat.
Just then, a friend request notification popped up.
It was from a girl with a little bunny profile photo. I accepted her application.
She didn't say anything after adding me.
When I clicked on her recent photo, I understood everything. It was a fresh selfie of the same girl who had appeared on Byron's screen earlier. She was holding his computer, and it captioned: [Oops, I disturbed baby during his meeting, but he didn't get mad at me.]
Her post and friend request were clearly intended to provoke me, but I didn't delete her. Instead, I let it linger, observing in silence.
The post that caught my attention the most was one from my birthday. Byron, who was supposed to be on a business trip, was in a photo with her. They were seated at the center of the table, and the girl was wearing a crown, looking incredibly happy. Byron's friend commented under the photo: [You two look so happy. Byron has abandoned me.]
Byron replied: [Shut up, man.]
I could feel the joy in his words through the screen. I suddenly remembered how, on my birthday, I had waited at home for him to return, only for him to ignore my many calls.
When he finally picked up, his voice was impatient, and he only told me to sleep early. My call must have interrupted his good mood.
I couldn't help but laugh bitterly at myself.


I scrolled through more of the girl's posts but found them uninteresting.
After washing up, I went to bed, intending to sleep.
But Byron returned just as I was about to drift off.
I heard his footsteps upstairs and pretended to close my eyes.
Then I heard him undressing.
After a while, I felt the bed dip as he sat down and pulled me into his arms.
His body carried the scent of the cologne I bought him, mingled with a faint fragrance of gardenias.
It wasn't my scent.
I couldn't help but think, was she also wrapped in his arms like this? Was she leaving her scent on him too?
The thought made me feel nauseous.
Without making a sound, I pulled away from his embrace and resisted his intimacy for the first time.
In the past, I would have snuggled closer to him the moment he lay down. I would have buried my head in his arms, greedily inhaling his scent.
But now, I couldn't stand it.
He stiffened behind me, seemingly confused, and tried to pull me closer again.
"Don't hold me. It's uncomfortable," I said, my eyes still closed.
He sat up, suddenly irritated. "What's wrong with you? Did you hear something? Or is there something I've done wrong to upset you?"
I couldn't bring myself to say anything. What could I ask him? Who was that girl? Did he love me?
Right now, those questions didn't matter anymore.
"I've worked all day and stayed up late to revise the proposal. I'm really tired," I replied, my voice devoid of emotion. "Please, stop making this a big deal. I just want to rest."
He exploded. "You're insane! I just wanted to hug you, and now I'm wrong?"
With that, he slammed the door and stormed off, leaving me with his cold back.
In the past, I would have chased after him, clinging to his hand, begging him not to be angry.
But now, I just silently pulled the blanket back over myself and tried to sleep.
My rest was more important than anything else.
The wall between us felt thicker now, and neither of us reached out to the other.
We stayed like that in a strange silence.
For the next week, Byron didn't come home for dinner or send me any messages. When he saw me at work, he only gave me a brief, indifferent glance.
Colleagues whispered about whether we had fought, or if it was because of the events that day.
But the girl kept posting frequently on her social media.
I thought the cold war would continue indefinitely, until one evening, I received a message from home about a family dinner.
I realized I had to reach out to Byron, but my message was met with complete silence.
Reluctantly, I went to the house he had lived in before we got married.
It was where he always went after our arguments, and this time was no different.


I stood at the door, listening to the laughter coming from inside the villa, and couldn't help but frown.
The familiar, coquettish voice sounded exactly like the one I had heard coming from Byron's computer that day.
With a scowl on my face, I pushed the villa's door open.