Just as he opened his mouth, a sudden, sharp vibration rattled inside my purse.

I reached down, my fingers finding my phone, and pulled it out to silence it.

The screen lit up with an incoming call from an unknown number, but below it, a text notification popped up from a contact I thought I had blocked.

The name on the screen made my breath catch.

It was Mark.

My thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly as I read the preview of the text message.

“Victoria, I saw the press release about the new hospital wing. I’m so sorry for how things ended. Can we talk?”

I stared at the name, Mark Bell, the man who had walked out on me when my body failed to produce the child we both wanted.

The memory of the cold, sterile fertility clinic hallway flashed in my mind, followed by the sight of his packed suitcases by our front door.

But as I looked up from the glowing screen, my eyes found Daniel standing at the podium.

Daniel was adjusting the microphone, his gaze still fixed on me with a quiet, supportive warmth.