Preston’s face flushed a deep, angry red as he stood up.

“That is enough,” he roared.

“And because of this,” I said, ignoring him, “I am publicly announcing my filing for divorce.”

I turned my glass over, pouring the champagne onto the center of the white tablecloth.

“This marriage is over.”

I turned on my heel and walked out of the ballroom, my head held high.

In the lobby, the air was cool and quiet.

I saw Daniel Price, the hotel manager, standing near the marble columns.

He had been watching the entrance.

He walked toward me, his face expressionless but his eyes sharp.

He held a thick manila folder in his hands.

“Mrs. Hayes,” Daniel said quietly. “Your daughter is waiting safely in my office.”

“Thank you, Daniel,” I said.

He handed me the folder.

“You should look at this before you leave,” he said.

My fingers gripped the edge of the envelope.

The heavy paper felt cold against my skin.

I opened the metal clasp and pulled out the first document.

The first page was stamped with the blue ink seal of the New York State Supreme Court.