Chapter 1 - "HE OPENED HIS MOTHER’S HAND AND FOUND THE GRAVE OF HIS MARRIAGE"
The noise of the Manhattan ballroom faded into a dull, underwater hum the moment Daniel Harrison looked into his mother’s palm. Resting against her pale skin was the platinum band and five-carat heirloom diamond he had placed on Amy’s finger seven years ago.
"Where is she, Mom?" Daniel’s voice was sharp, laced with the casual arrogance of a man who had never been denied anything in his life.
Margaret Harrison didn't blink. She looked at her son—at his immaculately tailored tuxedo, the faint scent of expensive scotch on his breath, and the lingering presence of Vanessa Cole standing just two paces behind him.
"She walked out," Margaret said, her voice dropping like lead. "And she left you something else."
Margaret opened her other hand, revealing a heavy white envelope. Daniel snatched it, his brow furrowing in irritation. "She’s throwing a scene over Vanessa? Over a business conversation? She knows how important the Cole Logistics merger is."
"Open the envelope, Daniel," his mother whispered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Open it before you say another foolish word."
Daniel tore the paper open. Inside fell a black-and-white printout—a ultrasound scan dated three days prior. Stamped across the top was the clear marking: 17 WEEKS. Tucked behind the photo was a handwritten card in Amy’s delicate, sweeping cursive:
“I brought this tonight hoping it would remind you of what we were building. But as I watched you dance with her, I realized you’ve already built a life that doesn't have room for us. Goodbye, Daniel.”
The color drained from Daniel’s face so fast he stumbled back a step. His chest heaved as the oxygen was sucked right out of his lungs. Seventeen weeks. Four months. While he had been flying to Dallas, London, and San Francisco, while he had been canceling dinners and brushing off her quiet phone calls, his wife had been enduring the first trimester alone.
"Daniel?" Vanessa stepped forward, laying a manicured hand on his forearm, her smile laced with subtle triumph. "Is everything okay? What did Amy say?"
Daniel turned to Vanessa. For the first time in three years, he didn't see a brilliant corporate strategist or a charming socialite. He saw a predator. He violently shook her hand off his arm.
"Don't touch me," he growled, his voice breaking.
May you like
"Daniel!" Vanessa gasped, taking a step back as onlookers began to whisper.
He didn't care about the cameras. He didn't care about the board members or the reporters. Daniel spun around and sprinted toward the glass doors of the hotel lobby, shoving past waiters and guests, screaming Amy's name into the cold New York night. But the rain-slicked avenue was empty, save for the red taillights of a sedan disappearing into the Manhattan fog.
