Daniel POV

The penthouse is too quiet after she leaves. I stand at the balcony door, watching the elevator lights descend. Eighteen floors. Seventeen. Sixteen.

Gone.

My phone buzzes on the table. Another notification. Another headline. Another photo of my ex-wife with my best friend.

I pick it up. Swipe through the images Nathan sent an hour ago. The originals. Wide shots showing the café context. Time stamps. His explanation was typed out in careful detail.

"She was crying. Hartwell just ...