On our fifth anniversary, I found my husband, Michael, cheating with my assistant. He forced me to sign over my company in our divorce, thinking he’d outsmarted me. Little did he know, it was my plan unfolding. As I got ready that morning, Michael fixed his tie, still charming after five years. “Happy anniversary!” I said, kissing his cheek. He nodded. “Crazy how time flies.” I suggested an early office close for a romantic evening. “Big client today,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Dinner meeting. Weekend?” Hurt but familiar with his brush-offs, I agreed. Our luxury apartment, filled with art, reflected Blossom Trends, my small shop turned multimillion-dollar brand.
My assistant, Lauren, texted about a delay, so I decided to bring Michael coffee at work. The office was silent, but a familiar laugh stopped me near his door. Through the blinds, I saw Lauren on his desk, Michael’s hands on her, kissing her passionately. My coffee hit the floor, unnoticed by them. His ring shone, our photo hidden. Calmly, I left and called my lawyer friend, Emma. “Divorce and business plan, now,” I said. We met, and I revealed I’d prepared a new company months earlier, sensing Michael’s late nights and secret texts. “He’s co-owner of Blossom Trends,” I told Emma, showing new incorporation papers. She smiled. “He’s clueless.”
That evening, I handed Michael divorce papers while slicing tomatoes. “I saw you with Lauren,” I said. He scanned the papers, frowning. “Where’s Blossom Trends?” he demanded. “I want it.” I slid over ownership documents. “Take it,” I said. He hesitated, surprised by my ease. “No fight?” I shrugged. “You’ve made your choice.” He sneered, “Starting over at 50? Good luck.” I replied, “I’ll manage.” In Emma’s office, his lawyer raised an eyebrow as I signed, but Michael grinned, shaking my hand. “Blossom Trends is mine.” I gave him a box with a note: “This is your true reward from our marriage.” Empty, like his loyalty.
Three months later, my new office hummed with my old team, including Rachel, who’d quit Blossom Trends after me. Our top buyer, Tom, loved our new line. “Blossom’s falling apart,” he said. “Supplier issues, IRS audit.” Rachel winked—she’d tracked Michael’s sloppy bookkeeping before he sacked her. Emma texted: IRS had seized Blossom’s accounts, staff fleeing. I’d hired the best for my company. Six months later, I ran into Michael at a coffee shop, his swagger gone, clothes faded. “Business collapsed,” he said. “You planned this.” I sipped my cappuccino. “You ignored my advice on shortcuts.” He stared, stunned. “You’re different.” I said, “You never knew me.” Rachel called me over. “My team needs me,” I told him, walking away. Blossom Trends was just a shell—my talent was untouchable, and Michael learned that too late.
