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.

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.

“Bitch, 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.

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.

[Bitch, 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.