“The Bride Slapped a Waiter in Front of Everyone. The Groom’s Next Move Ended the Wedding.”

For three full seconds, nobody moved.

Then the room exploded into whispers.

Vivian grabbed Daniel's wrist before he could lift the microphone again. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"You're angry. Fine. Be angry after the ceremony."

"There won't be a ceremony."

Her mother, Celia Cross, rushed forward from the front row. "Daniel, this is absurd. She was startled. People make mistakes."

Noah tried to step away. "Sir, I don't want to cause-"

"You didn't cause this," Daniel said.

Vivian's face flushed. "You're throwing away four years because a waiter got his feelings hurt?"

That sentence settled something inside Daniel.

For months, small moments had bothered him. A driver who quit without explanation. A housekeeper Vivian called "dramatic." A florist who left their engagement party crying. Every time, Vivian had a reasonable story.

Now he understood the common part of every story.

Her.

Daniel removed the boutonniere from his jacket and placed it on the table.

"I'm not ending this because of spilled water," he said quietly. "I'm ending it because you showed me who you are when you thought the person in front of you couldn't matter."

Vivian stepped closer. "You will regret humiliating me."

"Maybe."

Her voice dropped. "You have no idea what you're doing."

Daniel turned toward Noah. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

But Noah was looking past him toward the service hallway.

His expression changed.

A woman in a black event-manager suit stood there. She made a quick cutting motion across her throat, then pointed toward the exit.

Noah went pale.

Daniel followed his gaze, but the woman had already disappeared.

"Who was that?" Daniel asked.

Noah swallowed.