For our Wedding Anniversary, I Gifted Him Divorce Papers

“Attorney, I want to divorce Desmond and resign from his company. Please draft two agreements for me.”

The attorney frowned slightly, his tone cautious.

“Lavender, your marriage didn’t come easily. I advise you both to think carefully before signing anything.”

Lavender had been Desmond Hackett’s secretary for three years—and secretly, his wife for just as long.

A month ago, she was kidnapped. That night, the kidnappers made countless calls to her husband, demanding a hefty ransom.

But he didn’t pick up a single call. Eventually, the kidnappers threw her into the cold ocean. She nearly died, but a nearby fisherman found her in time and rescued her.

That same night, Desmond was in a hotel… with Cyanne, his wife’s younger sister.

At that moment, everything Lavender had once cherished—years of love, three years of marriage—shattered.

She finally woke up from her fantasy. And this time, she was ready to walk away for good.

“I’ve made up my mind,” Lavender told the lawyer, nodding. “And Desmond won’t object.”

She had known all those years—not a single day did her husband love her.

But she had loved him since they were younger. When he said he was willing to marry her three years ago, she was crying happy tears as she exclaimed yes.

Soon, it’s their third wedding anniversary.

She had already prepared one final gift for him—divorce, also known as freedom from her.

***

That evening, Lavender went back to the villa and found Desmond cooking in the kitchen.

He had always been a clean freak, especially fussy about the mess cooking made.

She remembered the first year of their marriage—he had stepped into the kitchen mid-meal, wrinkled his nose, and muttered, “Is this place doubling as a landfill?”

But when Cyanne said she liked his cooking, he enrolled in a culinary course just for her.

Tonight, he brought out the dishes. “Didn’t you say work was quiet today? Why are you home so late?”

Even in an apron, Desmond’s tall frame and broad shoulders exuded a magnetic charm.

Lavender smoothed over her expression and replied lightly, “The company hired a batch of new recruits. I’ve been busy preparing their training materials.”

Desmond didn’t question it. To him, she was always busy with work.

“Alright then, dinner’s ready. Come eat.”

She sat down. He placed a slice of bitter melon onto her plate. “I remember you like this. I made it especially for you.”

A dull ache stirred in Lavender’s chest.

Cyanne was the one who liked bitter melon. Lavender was allergic to it.

Three years together, and he still hadn’t noticed.

If he had paid even the slightest bit of attention, he wouldn’t have gotten it so wrong.

Desmond noticed her hesitation. “Avy? Why aren’t you eating?”

She gently pushed the dish away and pulled two documents from her bag.

“Dinner can wait. There are two agreements I need you to sign.”

Desmond didn’t like talking business during meals. “What contracts are so urgent?”

Just as he reached to take the papers, his phone buzzed.

Though he moved quickly to cover the screen, his wife still caught a glimpse of the caller ID.

It was Cyanne.

He stood and walked to the balcony to take the call.

His abrupt movement knocked dishes off the table, making glass shattered across the floor.

A shard flew up and sliced Lavender’s fingertip, and blood dripped quietly into the tiles.

Desmond didn’t notice. He spent 15 minutes on the phone, then grabbed his coat from the chair, ready to leave.

“I’ve got something tonight. I won’t be home for dinner.”

Lavender stopped him. “You haven’t signed the agreements yet.”

He frowned, annoyed. He thought she was being unreasonable, but he quickly flipped to the last page and scrawled his name.

“There. Happy? Can I go now?”

She looked at his signature on both documents and nodded blankly. “Yeah. Go.”

As if even one more second in the villa was unbearable, Desmond walked out without a word.

Watching him leave, Lavender let out a bitter laugh.

If he cared even a little, he would’ve noticed the agreements were a divorce and resignation.

And that her hand was still bleeding.

But Desmond had always loved Cyanne—her younger sister and the “real” daughter of their parents.

Twenty-five years ago, their nanny and Jospehine, Lavender’s mother, gave birth in the same hospital.

One mistake switched the babies.

Lavender, the true heiress, was raised by the nanny. Cyanne grew up as the beloved daughter of the Winslets.

It wasn’t until five years later, when the nanny passed away that the truth came out.

The Winslets accepted Lavender, but they didn’t let go of Cyanne either.

Josephine had said, “Avy, hearts are made of flesh. We’ve raised Yannie all these years. Now that her mother’s gone, she only has us.”

They told her that if they revealed Cyanne’s true identity, people would look down on her.

So to the world, Cyanne remained the heiress while only the Winslets and Hacketts knew who Lavender really was.

Desmond and Cyanne had been childhood sweethearts. Just before their engagement, Cyanne met an elite French bachelor and insisted on chasing her “true love” in Paris.

The Winslets didn’t want to offend the Hacketts, so they asked Lavender to marry in Cyanne’s place.

Desmond, heartbroken and indifferent, agreed.

Unexpectedly, a month ago, Cyanne returned—and Desmond betrayed Lavender.

To force Lavender out of the Hacketts, he even leaked his intimate videos with Cyanne online.

Lavender had seen the video of them talking.

Desmond had said, “Lavender never did anything wrong, but if I just ask for a divorce, neither family will accept it. We need to ruin her reputation so her parents can’t argue.”

Cyanne asked him, “You’ve been married for three years. Did you ever love her?”

“She’s just a stand-in. I married her just to shut everyone up.”

Lavender had once believed that Desmond’s heart could be earned through patience and sincerity.

Unfortunately, she had been mistaken.

Now, tears blurred her vision as she pulled a small notebook from her bag.

Three years ago, she had made herself a promise.

If she’d be disappointed 99 more times, she would leave for good.

The video was her 99th disappointment.

Tonight, she placed three items into a box, sealed it, and locked it in the safe.

It was her final wedding anniversary gift to Desmond.

He would probably like it.

With everything in place, Lavender picked up her phone and called the man she hadn’t spoken to in three years.

“Red… My divorce cooling-off period ends in a month. Please, come and take me away then.”