On our fifth anniversary, I found my husband, Thomas, cheating with my assistant. He claimed my company in our divorce, thinking he’d won, unaware it was my plan’s centerpiece. That morning, I watched Thomas fix his tie, still charmed after five years. “Happy anniversary!” I said, wrapping my arms around him. He nodded. “Time flies.” I suggested closing our shop early to celebrate. “Client dinner,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Weekend?” Disappointed, I agreed. Our high-rise apartment, with art and skyline views, was thanks to Rose Bloom, my startup turned multimillion-dollar brand.
My assistant, Kate, texted about a delay, so I decided to bring Thomas coffee at work. The office was quiet. Near his door, I heard a familiar laugh. Through the blinds, I saw Kate on his desk, Thomas kissing her, hands everywhere. My coffee hit the floor, unnoticed. His ring shone, our photo hidden. Calmly, I left and called my lawyer friend, Lily. “Divorce and business plan, today,” I said. At her office, I explained Thomas’s co-ownership of Rose Bloom. “I was ready,” I said, showing papers for a new company I’d started secretly. Lily smiled. “He’s done for.”
That evening, I handed Thomas divorce papers while chopping zucchini. “I saw you with Kate,” I said. He scanned the papers, puzzled. “Where’s Rose Bloom?” he demanded. “I want it.” I slid over ownership documents. “Take it.” He paused, surprised. “No fight?” I shrugged. “You’ve picked your side.” He sneered, “Starting over at 50? Good luck.” I said, “I’ll manage.” In Lily’s office, his lawyer eyed me sadly as I signed, but Thomas grinned, shaking my hand. “Rose Bloom’s mine.” I gave him a box with a note: “This is your prize from our marriage.” Empty, like his vows.
Three months later, my new office thrived with my old team, including Claire, who’d left Rose Bloom. Our top buyer, John, loved our collection. “Rose Bloom’s tanking,” he said. “Late orders, IRS trouble.” Claire smirked—she’d tracked Thomas’s sloppy records before he let her go. Lily texted: IRS seized Rose Bloom’s accounts, staff bailing. I’d hired the best. Six months later, I met Thomas at a coffee shop, his charm gone, clothes worn. “Business failed,” he said. “You planned it.” I sipped my mocha. “You ignored my advice.” He stared, stunned. “You’re different.” I said, “You never knew me.” Claire called me over. “My team needs me,” I told him, walking away. Rose Bloom was just a title—my power was untouchable, and Thomas learned that the hard way.
