Chapter 8
I looked at the man standing across from me and felt nothing but disgust.
I retorted, “All the evidence is right here. What exactly am I supposed to ask for
arification about?”
But Bryon just spoke without thinking, “Flora is too kind to do something like this. Maybe you’re just trying to frame her.”
“You’re so disgusting, Lydia,” he spat before storming off with the woman in his
arms.
His wife, who was covered in bruises and slandered, was someone nothing more than a vile accuser in his mind.
By now, it was clear to everyone that Byron and I were a couple only in name.
After they left, I was too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to stay any longer. I dismissed the crowd and returned home alone.
The wounds from the earlier attack ached terribly, but what hurt even more was the complete absence of feelings I had left for Byron.
That night, after everything that had happened, Byron didn’t come home again.
The next morning, Flora couldn’t wait to knock on my door like a victor who had just won a battle.
When I opened the door and saw her standing there, I thought for a moment I was dreaming.
It wasn’t until she tried to push past me and I blocked her at the doorway that I realized this was all too real.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice filled with confusion.
She smiled smugly, tilting her head high.
“I’m here to pick up a few of Byron’s clothes. After all, he’ll be staying with me for a while to take care of me.”
I couldn’t help but let out a cold chuckle at her words.
“Oh? I thought you came for another beating, since clearly, you didn’t get enough yesterday.
“Honestly, it’s amazing how your brain can come up with such disgusting tricks. And now you even have the nerve to show up here to take his clothes.”
Ignoring me completely, she strolled into the walk–in closet and began selecting Byron’s clothes, deliberately placing his personal items on top for me to see.
After she had neatly packed everything, I finally walked in slowly.
“Thanks for packing up the trash I no longer need,” I said with a sarcastic smile.
Her face twisted in anger, and she sneered, “Don’t act so high and mighty, Lydia. If anything’s missing, I’ll just come back to get it.”
She was about to leave when her expression suddenly changed, her smugness replaced by something sour.
Her ability to change faces so quickly almost made me want to applaud her.
“You really are like a chameleon, Flora. Your face changes faster than the weather.”
Before I could say another word, I was abruptly shoved aside.
11:25 AM
<
Byron stormed in, his face full of rage, and pulled his delicate mistress into his arms.
“Lydia, can you stop bullying Flora?” he snapped. “Why are you always so aggressive? I don’t even recognize you anymore.”
Hearing those words from him, I felt a wave of nausea.
I barely resisted the urge to slap him right there.
Flora, ever the perfect victim, leaned against Byron’s chest.
“I’m fine,” she said softly. “Lydia’s unhappy because she’s unloved–it’s understandable. I don’t blame her.”
“You’re just too kind,” Byron said, stroking her hair.
And with that, the two of them left the villa like I didn’t even exist.
Not long after they left, Flora couldn’t wait to post on social media: [Happy to be a part of your life.]
The accompanying photo was of the two of them together.
She flaunted it for days, clearly trying to provoke me.
I finally clicked on her profile and sent her a direct message: [You’re literally handing me evidence of his infidelity. Are you trying to help me get everything in the divorce?]
I watched as the “typing” indicator flickered, only for no reply to come.
Instead, all of her posts about Byron were quietly deleted.
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
She was really hilarious.
