I stood frozen in the doorway. “Did you really think you were invited?” she said, not smiling. My husband looked down at his watch, not at me. The room went dead silent. My daughter’s hand slipped into mine. Then she stepped forward, reaching into her pocket…

My first impulse was to scream. My second was to keep my daughter from becoming a spectacle. I stepped in front of Sophie. “No,” I said, not just to Marissa, but to the whole room. “We’re not doing this to a child.”

The security guard arrived at my shoulder. “Ma’am—”

“I’m leaving,” I said, steady. “But Ethan needs to say one honest sentence to his daughter before I go.” I turned to him. “Tell her what’s happening.”

Ethan’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. Marissa’s smile tightened. “Claire, you’re upsetting everyone.”

“Proposing at a charity fundraiser is upsetting,” I said. “Especially with an eight-year-old standing here.”

Sophie’s voice was small. “Dad?”

Ethan finally moved, kneeling in front of her like it hurt his knees. “Sweetheart,” he said, “Mom and I are having problems. I’m going to stay somewhere else for a while.”

“That’s all you can give her?” I asked. My voice cracked, and I hated that it did.

Marissa snapped the box shut, annoyed, and leaned toward Ethan. “We can talk after speeches,” she murmured, like I was a scheduling issue.