Then I saw him.
Daniel.
My husband.
Or technically, soon-to-be ex-husband.
He stood near the front beside his attorney in a perfectly tailored navy suit, looking polished, wealthy, confident—like the successful CEO everyone admired.
And beside him sat Vanessa.
The woman he destroyed our marriage for.
She wore emerald green and looked at me with a smirk that made my stomach twist.
That expression alone reminded me of every cruel thing she had done over the last six months.
The anonymous photos sent to my phone.
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