Owen reached to the back of his neck and unclasped the silver chain he always wore while working at his shop. He slid the heavy gold band of his own engagement ring off the chain, dropped it onto the table beside the cupcake tower, and looked at Claire with nothing but disgust.

“You used the days Felicity was making sure her baby was alive to sleep with her husband,” Owen said, his voice hollow. “You used me as your alibi. We’re done.”

He turned and walked toward the front door. Claire let out a guttural sob and chased after him, her pleas echoing onto the porch before the heavy oak door slammed shut, cutting her off entirely.

Damon stood alone in the center of the room. He looked at the staring faces of our guests, then turned to me, his eyes hardening from panic into malice.

“Fine,” he spat, his voice dropping into a cruel sneer. “You want to humiliate me? You want to play the victim? Go ahead. Keep the house. I don’t care.

I built my company from the ground up without you. I’m a millionaire in my own right. I’ll pay your little maternity fund back by tomorrow, we’ll sell this house, split the equity, and I’ll be gone.”