Because unlike Michael, I was prepared.

I had been waiting for this moment.

The envelope at my place wasn’t divorce papers. No, I had something far sharper, something that would slice through every lie he thought he could spin. Tonight, he thought he was in control. Tonight, he believed he would expose me as the pitiful, discarded wife. But tonight would not end the way he imagined.

Dinner resumed in strained silence, though no one touched the food. The roasted lamb cooled, the wine remained full in its glasses. The only sound was the soft hum of the garden lights.

Michael leaned back, arrogance rolling off him, and draped an arm around Sofia’s shoulders. “We’re expecting in two months,” he announced proudly, eyes darting across the table. “A new beginning—for us.”