He wanted a spectacle.
He wanted people watching.
He wanted photographs.
He wanted everyone who mattered to see that he had “moved on” before the ink on our divorce papers was dry.
Their reception was being held at the Halberg Hotel.
The irony almost made me laugh.
Years earlier, Daniel had once left me sitting alone in that same hotel lobby while Vanessa—who was supposedly his “marketing consultant” at the time—was upstairs in his suite.
I wasn’t physically present at the reception, but I knew nearly every detail.
The florist
