He Destroyed My Orchids, I Destroyed Our Marriage

My husband, tech giant Ethan Vance, suffered from chronic insomnia. His only solace was a custom fragrance I blended for him, derived from the rare "Moonlight Orchids" I cultivated myself.

At the charity dinner for our seventh wedding anniversary, his childhood sweetheart, Chloe Bennet, poured a bucket of industrial cleaner into my orchid greenhouse.

I fell to my knees, screaming and crying, desperately trying to save them. She covered her mouth, her eyes wide with feigned innocence as she apologized.

"Oh my God, Ava, I had no idea you made the fragrance from these. I just thought they were pretty decorations!"

Ethan gently held the frightened Chloe. To stop me from "making a scene," he shoved me violently to the ground.

My wrist slammed against a steel frame, and a sickening crack echoed the shattering of bone. The first thing I did was contact a lawyer to file for divorce.

A month later, late one night, my ex-husband, gaunt and tormented by insomnia, gazed at the skeletal remains of the glass greenhouse.

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1

After a seven-day standoff, Ethan Vance finally came home.

The dark circles under his eyes were so pronounced they looked like twin bruises.

"Don't you think it's time to make a new batch of fragrance oil?"

Because of his severe PTSD, the only thing that could lull him to sleep was the unique fragrance I blended from my "Moonlight Orchids."

I scrolled through my phone, answering him without looking up.

"I'm not feeling particularly inspired lately."

I wasn't in the mood. The orchids, the source of the fragrance, were in the greenhouse at our Connecticut estate, and the weekly, hours-long drives to meticulously care for them were draining.

"Chloe didn't do it on purpose. You need to know when to stop. Don't make a big deal out of nothing."

As he spoke, he pulled a bottle of Macallan from the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass.

During our cold war, hard liquor—a remedy Chloe had suggested—had become his new sleep aid.

The man added a sphere of ice to his crystal glass and glanced at me.

"Chloe didn't know how much that greenhouse meant to you. To make it up to you, she found a top-tier perfume laboratory."

"I've already arranged for an investment. The ownership will be transferred to your name. Let's just let this go."

The irony was laughable: using our joint assets to fund an investment as an "apology" to me, on behalf of his mistress.

Truly, Husband of the Year.

"Great. Be sure to thank Mr. Vance's girlfriend for me."

His mask of indifference finally cracked, his eyes flashing with impatience.

"Ava Hayes, can you do anything besides be jealous?"

I met his gaze calmly.

"I can also sign divorce papers."

"If you have time to invest in a lab for your little lover, you should have plenty of time to tell your lawyer to sign the papers."

"Procrastinating isn't very becoming of a top CEO, is it?"

Ethan stared at me for a few seconds before his face went blank again. He gave up, slumping onto the sofa to fiddle with his phone.

He frowned occasionally, as if dealing with an urgent business email.

If I hadn't seen the private messages between him and Chloe, I might have actually believed his charade.

"You look stunning tonight, baby. Did you know I was taking you to Per Se?"

"Don't be so full of yourself. I dressed up tonight to meet a few important investors."

Their flirtatious banter on the screen was a stark contrast to the dead silence filling our living room.

It just confirmed what I already knew: divorce was my only way out.

I lowered my head, wiping the corner of my eye.

Before, my only reaction would have been to break down and cry in front of him.

But our marriage was already brain-dead. There was no point in debasing myself with tears anymore.

"Did you make my mother angry again?"

Chloe's "kind reminder" must have prompted him, because he finally spoke to me again.

"Chloe is taking my mother to Europe in a few days. She'll help calm her down for you."

"When you have half of Chloe's emotional intelligence, maybe you'll finally learn to be reasonable."

I couldn't help but sneer.

"I'm ready to hand over the title of Mrs. Vance. Isn't that reasonable enough?"

Ethan's gloomy gaze held a clear threat.

"Ava, is playing the victim your new hobby?"

I finally stood up, giving up on any last attempt to communicate with this man.

"Maybe."

"Oh, right. I know you don't have time to sign the divorce papers."

"I've already had my lawyer file for divorce."

"And don't worry about the cost. It'll all come out of my personal trust fund."