The Rose Garden's Three Year Lie

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I spent all day setting up the perfect surprise, only to find my husband in the rose garden, kissing my best friend.

Overnight, they became the most well-matched power couple in the criminal underworld.

I quietly packed everything up and texted him to ask for a divorce.

But he just gave me a cold stare and demanded, "What new game is this, Tiffany?"

I sent the divorce papers to his email and moved out of our apartment overnight.

Three years later, he appeared out of nowhere as the new chairman of my company, demanding I personally restore his family's legendary painting.

My colleagues were buzzing, whispering about how the new chairman was young, rich, and single.

I sneered, "He's divorced."

"How do you know for sure?"

Because I'm the ex-wife he betrayed.

I submitted my resignation, but he blocked my office door, looking exhausted. "You can't leave."

"Why?"

"It's not what you think—"

The memory flashed through my mind, and pure rage coiled in my gut.

"Cassian, why weren't you this domineering back then?"

I spat the words at him and spun away.

————————

1

The second I stepped out of the conference room, my colleagues descended on me like vultures.

"Tiffany, do you know the new chairman?"

I shook my head.

"Wow, Tiffany, that Mr. Valeriano is so young. I heard he's a big shot from Chicago, and he's single, too."

A flurry of excited chatter erupted from the office gossips, and the noise was a dull roar in my ears.

"That's enough," I snapped. "He's divorced."

Ignoring their shocked expressions, I grabbed my bag, ready to head home.

"How do you know for sure?" a young intern asked, trailing after me.

A cold laugh escaped me. Of course, I knew. I was the ex-wife he betrayed.

I didn't answer, striding straight to the elevator.

I had told myself a thousand times that the past couldn't hurt me anymore. But seeing my ex-husband—now my new boss—made my heart give a traitorous lurch.

I was married to Cassian Valeriano for five years.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I had meticulously planned a surprise, intending to celebrate with him.

But instead, in the rose garden of his family's estate, he was kissing Palmer Gallo—my best friend.

Overnight, they became the perfect power couple in the Chicago underworld.

All the talk of power unions and family alliances, the sound of their triumphant laughter... it was a world away as I silently cleaned up the celebration I’d prepared, alone in our empty apartment.

When Cassian left home that morning, he had promised we would have a proper celebration.

So this was his idea of a celebration.

I stared at the surveillance footage of them wrapped in each other's arms, bile rising in my throat.

I couldn't even remember the last time he had touched me.

I used to think he was just too busy with family affairs, but now I understood. The woman he wanted was never me.

Fine. He could have his wish.

I sent him a text, and his voice came back through a voice message, as cold and sharp as ever: "What is it?"

I wanted to scream at him, but the words were lodged in my throat, no matter how many times I tried to force them out.

"Where are you?"

"In a meeting," he answered without hesitation, even though I could clearly hear Palmer's bright laughter in the background.

A self-mocking laugh escaped me. Why was I humiliating myself when I already knew the answer?

"Cassian, let's get a divorce."

A beat of silence, then, his voice tight with anger, "What new game is this, Tiffany?"

"I'll send the divorce papers to your email."

After that, I deleted the conversation.

I started clearing out my personal belongings from the apartment, preparing to flee Chicago.

The things I planned to toss included a matching pair of antique cufflinks, photos of us restoring famous paintings together, and the expensive set of restoration tools he had given me.

And there, tucked away in a folder of my old sketches, was the design for the mark I’d once treasured—the one tattooed over his heart.