Chapter 1

“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.”

Chapter 2

Lavender thought it would take a long time to hear from the other end of the line. Little did she know, the line had already connected at the first ring.

“Lavender,” his voice came sharp and low, “you’re not messing with me, are you?”

She stayed silent.

“I’ve been chasing you for as long as you’ve been pining for Desmond. You—cold as a diamond for seven years—and now you’re suddenly giving in? What changed?”

Red Ralston. Her old lover. One of North Carolina’s elites.

He chased her for seven years. In fact, she almost chose him.

It was just that on the night she was supposed to make the decision, Desmond gave her hope.

So she left Red.

Faced with his questions, she took a breath. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Forget I said anything.”

Suddenly, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor cracked through the speaker.

“You think I’m someone you can call when you’re bored and drop when you’re not? Huh, Lavender?” His voice rose. “You chose me this time. Don’t think about running away from me again.”

“I’m giving you one month,” he warned. “Handle that cheap man. After that, I’m going to take what’s mine.”

Red didn’t give her a chance to refuse. With a click, the line went dead after that warning.

A small, wry smile tugged at her lips. ‘He’s still the same,’ she realized.

That night, Desmond didn’t come home.

She spent the hours in silence, sorting through closets and drawers, folding things into boxes. Morning light spilled across the floor when the front door finally opened.

He stepped in, still wearing last night’s shirt. “What are you throwing out?”

She flinched, just slightly. Then she straightened, brushing hair behind her ear. “Just some garbage.”

He walked over, glanced into the box. It was full of clothes and other gifts he had bought for her.

“You call these… garbage?”

“Old gifts, old clothes,” she said lightly. “They take up space. I thought I’d donate them under your name—some kids in the mountains could use them. Might even earn you a good reputation.”

Hearing the last line, Desmond’s thin straight lips slightly curved. “Well, you know better.”

Seeing that he believed, she breathed a sigh of relief, but she also couldn't be fooled.

It was not that he believed her. It was just that he didn’t want to waste more time on her.

Suddenly, there was a sound of something breaking behind her.

She turned around, only to see her sister.

Cyanne stood by the shelf, wide-eyed, a broken sculpture at her feet. The smile on her face looked innocent, the kind that would make anyone fall in a trap.

“Oops… sorry, Mondy, Avy. I didn’t mean to.”

Desmond didn't care about the broken item at all, and quickly brushed past Lavender to check if Cyanne was injured.

Seeing no wounds over her body, the worry in his eyes seemed to have faded, "It's okay, nothing is more important than you."

But getting Desmond’s attention wasn’t enough. Cyanne also stared at Lavender and tilted her head, asking, “You don’t mind, right, Avy?”

Lavender's gaze dropped to the floor.

The sculpture had been one of a kind—commissioned after a trip, the only piece with both of her and Desmond’s faces carved into it.

But now, it was just broken pieces.

If it happened years ago, Lavender would definitely be mad and even say a few words.

Now, she looked back up and was kind enough to say, “It’s fine.”

A flicker passed across Cyanne’s face—gone before it settled. She smiled. “Aww, you’re really so kind.”

Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Desmond. “With a sister like that, I’m sure she won’t mind my next request either.”

He didn’t even look at Avy when he spoke.

“Yannie’s just returned to North Carolina. Her parents aren’t in the state, and she’s not comfortable staying home alone.

“In the meantime, let her live here.

“Oh, and—you room faces the sun. She’s always been sensitive to the cold. Let her have it.”

Chapter 3

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.

Chapter 4

She hadn’t even gotten her period—so why did it hurt so much all of a sudden?

Lavender stood up to leave, but just as she reached for the door, it wouldn’t budge. It was locked from the outside.

Then came Cyanne’s arrogant voice from behind the door.

“Cheap woman, how’s that hand-me-down love treating you?

“Desmond’s always loved me, from the very beginning. Now that I’m back, you should get out of our way.

“You really had the nerve to show up tonight, of all times, trying to steal my spotlight?”

Doubling over in pain, Lavender clutched her belly, cold sweat dripping down her brow.

Her voice was weak but defiant when she replied, “Cyanne, if you want him, take him. I’m done caring about him.”

Cyanne let out a cold laugh, not buying a word. “Funny. You think I’d believe that?

“You stole my mom back then—now you want to steal my man too? Who do you think you are?

“You’re staying in here tonight. No one’s coming to save you.”

With a twisted smile, Cyanne dragged a “Restricted Area. Do Not Enter” sign over and set it by the door.

Because some of the auction items tonight couldn’t be photographed, everyone had been required to surrender their phones before entering.

No one but Cyanne would think to come this way.

Wracked with pain, Avy could only slide to the floor, slumping against the wall, her strength fading fast. With what little energy she had left, she pounded on the door and cried out in desperation.

“Help… someone, please… Help me…”

But anyone passing by would see the sign and turn away without a second glance. No one came to save her.

She didn’t know how long she had been shouting before the pain finally overwhelmed her, and she passed out.

When the auction ended and Lavender still hadn’t returned, Desmond’s brow furrowed with concern.

Cyanne blinked up at him with feigned innocence. “Mondy, do you think maybe she got upset because you gave me her seat?

“If I’d known she’d take it so personally, I never would’ve taken it from her.”

Hearing Cyanne blame herself, Desmond frowned. “You’re the rightful daughter of the Winslets. You think it’s appropriate for a secretary to sit in your place?

“Forget it. Let her be. She’s been getting a bit too proud lately. Maybe it’s good to let her cool off. Let’s head home.”

Out of sight, Cyanne smiled triumphantly, thinking, ‘Lavender, I told you—you can’t win against me. Not with my mom, not with my lover.’

That night, Lavender didn’t come home, but Desmond never once asked about his wife.

The next morning, at the auction’s restroom, a cleaning lady unlocked the door during her rounds.

There, huddled in a corner, was Lavender. Her dress was soaked through. Even half-unconscious, her body trembled from the cold.

The cleaner rushed over, worried. “Ma’am, how did you get locked in the restroom? You don’t look well—should I call 911?”

Lavender’s damp lashes fluttered open. She pressed her arms against the floor, forcing herself up with effort.

“Thank you, but… no need.”

The pain in her belly had eased, but the restroom had been unbearably cold all night.

She really thought Desmond would at least come looking for her.

Clearly, she’d overestimated herself again.

She remembered how, when Cyanne once went missing for just ten minutes, Desmond had nearly called 911 in a panic.

But now—after a whole night without contact—he hadn’t even tried to find his wife.

‘So this is how different,’ Lavender realized, ‘love is from indifference.’

Steadying herself against the wall, she walked out one step at a time and caught a cab home.

In the car, she finally got her phone back—and sure enough, not a single call came from Desmond.

Instead, there were several messages from Red.

[Lavender, I can’t wait a whole month. One week. I’m coming to get you in a week.]

When Lavender saw Red’s message, a flicker of warmth returned to her heart.

She immediately replied: [Okay.]

‘Yeah, a month is too long,’ she agreed mentally. ‘One week will do.’

In just a week, she would leave for good—and finally put an end to everything with Desmond.

Chapter 5

As soon as Lavender stepped into the villa, she saw Cyanne lounging on the couch in her nightgown.

Lavender’s nightgown.

The sound of the door opening made Cyanne glance up with a sneer. “Back already? You look like a mess.”

She stood up and slowly walked over, her fingers tilting Lavender’s chin.

“Tsk. Look at that face—pale as paper. Anyone would think you’re on your deathbed.”

She leaned closer, proudly displaying the marks on her chest. “See these hickeys? All courtesy of Mondy. Last night was… intense.”

The more she spoke, the bolder she became. She lowered her voice, leaning into Lavender’s ear in a mocking whisper.

“Last night, in your bed, he said he only feels like a real man with me. Said you lie there like a dead fish—completely boring.”

The moment the words left Cyanne’s lips, Lavender’s eyes darkened. She raised her hand and slapped her sister hard across the face.

“Cyanne, know your place. I’m still Desmond’s wife. You’re just the other woman.

“Push me too far and I’ll hold a press conference. Let the world know you’re nothing more than a maid’s daughter who stole her sister’s husband.”

Lavender had no intention of engaging with Cyanne, but the latter insisted on digging her own grave.

Just as Cyanne was about to lash out, she looked up and saw Desmond approaching. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor.

“Avy, I’m sorry—I never should’ve come back! I’ll leave today! I’ll die if it means I’m no longer in your way.”

Before Lavender could even react, Cyanne suddenly sprang to her feet and ran straight toward a pillar.

Desmond rushed forward just in time to catch her.

“Yannie, I invited you here. If anyone has a problem with you, they have a problem with me!”

Lavender’s pale lips curled into a bitter smile.

Desmond, supporting Cyanne, turned and barked coldly, “Lavender, apologize to her!”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I have nothing to apologize for. Desmond, aren’t you even curious where I was last night?”

“Did you—” he began, frowning.

She cut him off, “Aren’t you wondering—”

“I don’t care where you were last night,” he snapped. “But you don’t get to hurt Yannie! If you don’t apologize right now, you’ll be suspended from work—until you admit you were wrong!”

In his eyes, Lavender was a workaholic. He figured suspension would be the ultimate punishment.

What he didn’t know was that Lavender never loved the work. She worked harder only so Desmond could have it easier.

Seeing the despair in her eyes, Desmond’s chest tightened with guilt. But he still turned away, taking Cyanne with him.

Before leaving, he ordered the maid, “Don’t let her eat until she apologizes.”

Lavender stared at his retreating figure, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

This was the man she had loved for seven years. After this… she wouldn’t love him anymore.

For days, Lavender was locked inside the villa.

Three times a day, the maid asked if she had realized her mistake.

Lavender never answered—just kept staring out the window.

She was counting down. In five more days, she would be gone for good.

Sitting on the balcony swing, her phone buzzed constantly.

All of it was from Cyanne.

On the day Lavender planned to leave, another message came in.

[Cheap woman, you couldn’t win over our moms, and you can’t win over a man. With just a word from me, Mondy won’t come home for a month.]

And she proved it.

For two full days, Desmond didn’t return.

But Cyanne sent videos every day.

Footage of her kissing Desmond on the beach.

Photos of him cooking for her.

Clips—vulgar, intimate, from every angle.

In the past, Lavender would’ve cried.

Now, she felt nothing.

A man that flirty was better off thrown away.

On the fourth day, she still hadn’t “admitted mistakes,” and the maid still withheld food. Lavender survived on water alone.

That evening, as usual, she walked into the garden.

Suddenly, a golden retriever dashed out and slammed into her.

Normally, a dog wouldn’t have that much strength—but she hadn’t eaten in days. Her body was as fragile as paper.

She fell to the ground, pain ripping through her belly.

Blood quickly soaked her pants. Her face went pale. She understood immediately.

Desmond’s mother had been urging them to have a child. Two months ago, during one of their few intimate moments, they hadn’t used protection.

Now, the searing pain in her belly drove her to her knees. Gritting her teeth, she begged the bodyguards for help.

The driver rushed her to the car in a panic, speeding toward the hospital.

But the roads ahead were closed.

“Ma’am,” the driver said nervously, “today’s Ma’am Cyanne’s birthday. Sir Desmond shut down the road for her party. We… We can’t get through.”

While her clothes were soaked in blood, fireworks lit up the sky.

All for Cyanne.

It was Desmond’s love on full display.

Lavender closed her eyes in despair.

With all the strength she had left, she ripped the wedding ring from her finger and flung it out the window.

Her husband and their marriage—she wanted none of it anymore.

Chapter 6

When Lavender opened her eyes again, she was already in the hospital.

The doctor looked at her regretfully and said, “Ma’am, you haven’t eaten for several days. Your body couldn’t sustain the pregnancy. Your baby… is gone. I’m so sorry.”

Lavender instinctively touched her lower belly. The tiny life that had just begun inside her was now gone.

Tears quickly streamed silently down her cheeks. Maybe the baby sensed that their parents were about to separate… and chose to leave this world early.

“Ma’am, your body still needs time to recover. Where is your husband? He should be here to take care of you.”

Lavender steadied her emotions and shook her head. “I don’t have a husband.” Then she asked, “Doctor, what’s the shortest amount of time I can stay in the hospital?”

She wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“Three days.”

Lavender nodded. Three days—just in time for Red to pick her up. That was enough.

As they spoke, the door to the ward was suddenly pushed open. Desmond walked in, visibly winded from rushing over.

“Why are you here?”

The driver beside him was about to explain, but Lavender spoke first. “I hadn’t eaten in days. My body gave out, and I fainted.”

Cyanne chimed in mockingly, “Avy, it’s not like you had a privileged childhood. How did you end up so weak?”

Desmond looked at Lavender, who was pale and frail. His anger from the past few days seemed to ease, and his tone softened.

“When did you become so stubborn? Admitting a mistake wouldn’t have killed you.

“If you’ve been feeling unwell, why didn’t you call me?” There was a hint of blame in his voice.

Lavender just looked at him quietly, a cold mockery in her heart.

‘Call you?’

These past few days, he had been busy spending time with Cyanne. He even refused to let Lavender eat, just to “teach her a lesson.”

Calling him would’ve just been asking for humiliation. What would have been the point?

But since she was about to leave anyway, there was no need to bring all that up. She simply offered a casual excuse.

“You were busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”

For some reason, Desmond felt a flicker of guilt when he heard her words.

Perhaps realizing he had gone too far, he began visiting the hospital every day.

On the day she was discharged, Lavender spent the morning texting Red.

Desmond remembered that she wasn’t the type to be glued to her phone—but lately, it hadn’t left her hand.

“Avy, who are you texting?”

He reached out to grab her phone, but Lavender quickly pulled it away. “Do you really need to read private conversations between girls?”

At her words, Desmond withdrew his hand. “Enough with the phone. We’re heading home soon.”

“Mm.”

He had treated her kindly these past few days, but Lavender knew—it was only out of guilt.

Once he dropped her off at home, Desmond left.

Lavender walked into the study, opened the safe, and placed the hospital’s miscarriage report inside.

Then she took out her notebook and added a final entry.

[100th disappointment: My baby’s gone.]

She finished the last stroke and closed the notebook.

A divorce agreement, a resignation letter, a miscarriage record, and one hundred sorrowful memories.

That was her wedding anniversary gift to Desmond.

After tidying everything up, she grabbed her suitcase, placed the villa’s keys on the dining table, and deleted her fingerprint from the smart lock.

Every trace of her presence in the villa—she erased completely.

Without hesitation, she turned around and left the wedding house where she had lived for three years.