At my wedding, my in-laws humiliated my 6-year-old daughter in front of 107 guests. “You are not a daughter. You are mommy’s regret,” they told her. My sister-in-law agreed. My fiancé didn’t. He got up and said this. His mom dropped her fork, his dad went dead pale...

The morning light filtering through the windows of the hotel suite was cold and gray.

Cara sat at the edge of the bed in a plush white bathrobe, watching Ivy sleep soundly under the thick duvet. The yellow wedding dress was neatly hung on the closet door, a quiet reminder of the war that had broken out twelve hours prior.

On the glass coffee table, Daniel’s phone had been buzzing continuously on silent mode since 6:00 a.m.

14 Missed Calls: Henry Mercer. 8 Missed Calls: Veronica Mercer. 5 Missed Calls: Sophie Mercer. 3 Text Messages: Richard Vance (Senior Partner, Mercer & Vance Law).

Daniel walked out of the bathroom, pulling a gray sweater over his head. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes evidence of a sleepless night spent staring at the ceiling. He picked up his phone, glanced at the screen, and placed it face down on the table.

"You don't have to ignore them forever," Cara said softly, leaning back against the headboard.

"I'm not ignoring them out of fear, Cara," Daniel said, walking over and sitting beside her on the bed. He reached out and stroked Ivy’s soft hair. "I'm ignoring them because there is nothing left to negotiate. What she said to Ivy... that wasn't a slip of the tongue. That was three years of hidden malice coming to the surface."

"Your father will pull your partnership," Cara warned, her voice laced with concern. "He owns fifty-one percent of the firm. You've worked eight years to build that client list, Daniel. If you leave, he will make sure you get nothing."

Daniel smiled faintly, though his eyes remained serious. "Let him. I’d rather start from a folding table in an empty garage than sit across from him in a corner office knowing what he thinks of my family."

Before Cara could answer, the room’s landline phone rang loudly.

Daniel answered it on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Daniel." It was Henry’s voice, sharp, commanding, and completely devoid of warmth. "I am in the hotel lobby. Come down here now. We need to handle the public relations before the news of your little outburst hits the Monday morning papers."

"I have nothing to say to you, Henry," Daniel replied calmly.

"Listen to me very carefully," Henry growled into the receiver. "You embarrassed your mother in front of our entire circle. You publicly disrespected this family. If you do not come down to the lobby right now, apologize to your mother, and issue a statement saying you were under severe stress, I will freeze your corporate accounts by noon. You will be stripped of your title at Mercer & Vance, and I will personally see to it that no firm in this city hires you."

Daniel listened quietly. He looked across the room at Cara, who was watching him with wide, anxious eyes, and then at Ivy, who stirred slightly in her sleep.

"Are you finished?" Daniel asked.

"Daniel, don't be a fool—"

"My resignation will be on your desk by 9:00 a.m. tomorrow," Daniel said clearly. "And if you ever come near my wife or my daughter again, I won't just use a microphone. I will use a courtroom. Goodbye, Henry."

He hung up the phone and pulled the cord out of the wall socket.

Cara pulled her knees to her chest. "Daniel... what are we going to do?"

"We are going to pack our bags, check out, and go get breakfast," Daniel said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "Then, I’m going to build something of my own."

Two hours later, as they were packing the trunk of Daniel’s sedan outside the hotel entrance, a sleek black town car pulled up behind them. The rear window rolled down slowly.

Veronica sat in the back seat, wearing dark sunglasses and a sharp tweed coat. She looked at Cara, ignoring Daniel entirely.

"You think you won, don't you?" Veronica said, her voice dropping into a cold, menacing whisper that barely carried over the idling engine. "You took my son. You turned him against his blood. But a girl like you—with a fatherless child and no family backing—won't last six months in this city without our money."

Cara stepped forward, putting herself between Veronica and the open back door of their sedan where Ivy was sitting.

"I didn't take your son, Veronica," Cara said, her voice steady, remarkably devoid of the fear she had felt for years. "You drove him away. You had twenty-one years to teach him how to be cruel like you, and somehow, he still turned out good. That must kill you inside."

Veronica’s mouth twitched with fury. She rolled the window up sharply, and the black car accelerated away down the boulevard.