He smelled of expensive cologne mixed with herbs from catered food. He avoided meeting my eyes as he placed a large envelope on the hospital tray beside my untouched gelatin.
He didn’t congratulate me. He didn’t even walk over to see the babies first.
Instead, he cleared his throat.
“This is for the best.”
He sounded like someone discussing a business deal rather than dismantling a marriage.
Inside the envelope were formal divorce papers prepared by a New York attorney whose name I recognized from Lily’s charity foundation board.
“You’re incapable of building anything stable,” Daniel said coldly. “You couldn’t even save my parents’ house when it mattered. Lily managed to do what you never could.”
He glanced briefly at the sleeping twins only a few feet away.
“I’m planning to request primary custody of one of them,” he added. “You clearly can’t handle both.”
Something inside me went completely still.
The magnitude of his ignorance was almost greater than the pain of childbirth I had endured just hours earlier.
“You can’t separate them,” I said firmly, forcing my voice to remain steady.
Daniel straightened confidently.
“You have no leverage,” he replied. “No property. Nothing to stand on.”