I Give my Ex-husband the Best Gift ever on our Anniversary

The night before our anniversary, I had finished packing the last of my essentials when I heard them. It was coming from the guest room down the hall. Kate’s room. They probably thought I was already sleeping.

I walked softly down the hallway, my phone already in my hand, the camera app open. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling onto the carpet.

I didn’t need to see them to know what they were doing. The sounds were unmistakable—the frantic, desperate rhythm of two people trying to consume each other. But then, the noises stopped, replaced by the sharp tone of Kate’s voice.

“I hate it,” she spat. “I saw the box, Ysmael. The necklace you bought for her. It’s real diamonds. Vintage. You told me you were getting her something cheap!”

“Baby, keep your voice down. She might wake up.” Ysmael soothed, though he sounded breathless. “It’s just a prop. It’s for the press. Tomorrow is the merger. The anniversary. I have to look like the doting husband. If I give her costume jewelry, the tabloids will tear us apart.”

“I wanted that necklace,” Kate whined. “You promised me diamonds.”

“I’ll buy you ten necklaces. Better ones. Once this is over. Once the old man signs the papers.”

I held the phone steady, angling the lens through the crack in the door. I caught them clearly—Ysmael sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, and Kate kneeling between his legs, clutching the sheets.

“I’m tired of waiting, Ysmael,” Kate said, her voice trembling with a mix of lust and fury. “I’m tired of being the secret. I want something that binds us. Something she can’t take away.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wild.

“Make me pregnant,” she demanded. “Right now. Make me pregnant.”

Ysmael hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Kate, we talked about this. The timing…”

“Prove it!” she hissed. “Prove you love me more than her. Put a baby in me, Ysmael. Make me the mother of your heir.”

Ysmael groaned, his resistance crumbling under her touch. “Okay. Okay, baby. Anything you want.”

He pulled her down onto the mattress.

I didn’t look away. I didn’t feel sick. I felt a cold, clinical satisfaction. I pressed the record button, capturing every word, every promise, every betrayal. I let it run for a full minute, ensuring the audio was crisp, the faces identifiable.

Then, I stopped the recording. I saved the file to the cloud, then to a secure folder, then sent a copy to my lawyer.

The next evening, the Grand Ballroom was a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns. It was the social event of the season.

I wore the necklace. The diamonds felt heavy and cold against my throat, a collar of ownership I was about to snap.

Ysmael was at my side, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back. He played the part perfectly, smiling for the cameras, laughing at the right moments, leaning in to whisper endearments that meant nothing.

“You look magnificent, Alice,” he said for the benefit of the photographer flashing bulbs in our faces.

“Happy Anniversary, darling,” I replied, my smile dazzling.

We moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations. Kate was there, of course. She was wearing a red dress that clashed with the decor, hovering near the champagne tower, her eyes tracking us with predatory intensity.

Then, the music lowered. A spotlight hit the stage.

Ysmael’s grandfather, the Chairman, slowly walked up to the microphone. He looked frail, but his eyes were sharp.

“Tonight,” the old man wheezed, his voice amplified across the silent room. “We celebrate not just a merger, but a legacy. A legacy of family. Stability. Loyalty.”

He raised a glass toward us.

“To my grandson, Ysmael. And to his lovely wife, Alice. It is because of her strength, her grace, and her unwavering support that I feel confident in handing over the reins of this company. A man who cannot keep a home cannot keep an empire. But Ysmael… he has chosen well.”

Applause thundered. Ysmael squeezed my waist, beaming. He thought he had won. He thought the keys to the kingdom were in his pocket.

“I love you,” he whispered to me.

“I know,” I lied.

The reception began. The crowd swarmed us. I played the dutiful wife for twenty more minutes. Then, I felt Ysmael’s hand slip away.

“I need to use the restroom,” he muttered, patting his pocket where his phone was vibrating.

I watched him go. He didn’t head to the restroom. He headed toward the service elevators. I glanced toward the bar. Kate was gone.

They couldn’t help themselves. Even on the most important night of his life, with his grandfather watching, they had to sneak away for a quick thrill. They probably thought they were invincible.

It was perfect.

I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t say goodbye to anyone. I simply turned and walked toward the main exit. I moved through the lobby, past the security, and out into the cool night air where a black sedan was waiting.

“To the airport,” I said to the driver. “Step on it.”

I was standing at the gate, the boarding pass in my hand, when my phone began to buzz.

I looked at the screen. Hubby.

He must have returned to the ballroom. He must have looked for his trophy wife to stand by his side for the final toast, only to find empty air.

I let it ring.

It stopped, then rang again immediately. Then the texts started pouring in.

Ysmael: Alice? Where are you?

Ysmael: People are asking for you. Grandpa is looking for you.

Ysmael: Stop playing games. This isn’t funny. Come back to the ballroom.

Ysmael: Alice! Pick up the damn phone!

I could imagine the panic setting in. I didn’t answer the call. Instead, I typed a single message.

To: Hubby

“I’m tired, so I went home. Can you please come home, too? I have your gift here in our room. Happy Anniversary, Ysmael."

I hit send then blocked his number. I dropped the phone into my bag, picked up my carry-on, and walked down the jet bridge. I didn’t look back.