For our Wedding Anniversary, I Gifted Him Divorce Papers

Even after three years of marriage, they didn’t always sleep in the same bed.

Desmond had said he didn’t like having someone next to him at night.

Lavender understood—it wasn’t just “someone” he didn’t want next to him. It was her.

She also knew he’d always been careful when it came to Cyanne. He’d probably rehearsed a long explanation, but when Lavender agreed without a fight, it caught him off guard.

“Alright,” she had said lightly. “There’s a lot of my stuff in there anyway. I’ll just move it all out.”

Besides, it made no difference whether she moved out sooner or later.

The moment she said she’d take all her things, Desmond almost spoke—an instinctive protest on the tip of his tongue.

But Cyanne cut in before he could. “Thanks, Avy.”

Lavender didn’t answer. She bent over, her thin arms hauling a box toward the stairs.

There was too much packed into it. Her foot slid across a shard of glass, hidden on the floor. She went down hard. Her knee slammed into the ground, the sharp fragments tearing into skin.

Pain shot through her so fiercely her back stiffened and sweat beaded along her spine. She bit down on her lip, wincing in silence.

But Desmond didn’t see it; Cyanne had already tugged him away.

Lavender stayed on the floor, her body trembling as the pain sank deeper. One drop, then another—her tears pattered softly on the tiles.

In the Winslets' place, Desmond would never let Cyanne carry so much as a handbag.

“Our Yannie is a little princess,” he’d say, warm and indulgent. “She should be treated like one.”

Unlike Cyanne, when Lavender had been the maid’s daughter, she’d done all the dirty and heavy work. No one cared if she got hurt.

Now Lavender was a rich man’s daughter. Now she was Desmond’s wife.

Yet, still, nothing had changed.

Everyone still stood on Cyanne’s side—without question, without pause.

Lavender had learned to live with it.

It took her the whole afternoon to sort through her things. By sunset, she’d loaded everything onto a truck.

“You didn’t have to throw so much out,” Desmond said, frowning. “Yannie’s only staying for a while. Once she leaves, you’ll move back in. What’s the point?”

To him, something about her felt off these past couple of days—she was too calm.

“They’re old,” Lavender explained, her voice steady. “I figured it was time to let them go.”

“You’re not the wasteful type.”

No, she wasn’t. She’d never lived a life of luxury. The things she owned, she made last.

But she only smiled. “They’ve been with me a long time. Sometimes you need a little room. Out with the old, right?”

‘Just like people,’ she added mentally.

Her reasoning sounded fair. If Desmond pushed again, he’d just look petty, so he let it drop.

“There’s an auction tonight,” he said, changing the subject. “The organizers invited me. You’ll come. With Yannie.”

Lavender was about to refuse, but he cut her off.

“You’re my secretary. I can’t show up at something like that event without one.”

She looked at him. A dozen things she wanted to say crowded her throat. Like: ‘And bringing Cyanne is appropriate?’ But she said none of them.

She just nodded. One last task before she left for good.

Night fell. Inside the auction hall, bright lights turned the space into near-daylight.

Everyone who mattered was there—polished, practiced, powerful.

The Hacketts had been climbing fast these past two years, and Jade, the host, came out quickly to greet them.

“Mr. Hackett. Your seat is ready. Right this way.”

Jade gestured to a pair of chairs. “I heard you got married? The second seat is for your wife.”

All three froze for a split second.

Desmond’s marriage had always been well hidden. No one was supposed to know.

Lavender turned toward him, waiting.

Two women. One extra seat.

His decision wasn’t surprising.

“I’m not married,” he said coolly. “Not sure where that rumor started.”

The host blinked, puzzled. “And these two?”

Desmond stepped forward and took Cyanne’s hand first.

“This is Cyanne, daughter of the S. Winslet Co.’s CEO.”

“Ah, Cyanne Winslet.” Jade nodded politely.

Then, as if reluctant, Desmond added, “And that one next to you is my secretary.”

Lavender didn’t flinch. She already knew what Demond’s introduced to her would be. But knowing the brutal answer didn’t stop the sharp pain that spread through her chest.

Still, she stood straight, swallowing the hurt and keeping her dignity intact.

Desmond and Cyanne took their seats while Lavender stayed behind them, standing.

Maybe it was just the cold air in the venue. Maybe it was everything. But pain stabbed at her lower abdomen, sharp and insistent.

She pressed a hand to her belly and slipped away to the restroom—like she was running.