She rolled her eyes.
“She needs to learn responsibility.”
“She’s nine.”
“I was cleaning at seven.”
“And now you’re repeating the same abuse.”
Her expression snapped.
“Oh, please. It’s not abuse.”
“Yes,” he said coldly. “It is.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Daniel said the words that ended everything.
“I want a divorce.”
Stephanie sat up instantly.
“You’re serious? Over this?”
“Over what you did to my daughter—yes.”
“We can fix this.”
“No. You don’t get to hurt her again.”
Panic flickered in her eyes.
“What about Oliver?”
“He stays with me.”
“You can’t take my son!”
“I will—if I have to protect him from you.”
Downstairs, Emma sat exactly where he left her.
Small. Fragile.
“Is she mad?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t care,” Daniel said, kneeling beside her. “What matters is you.”
