Vivian opened her mouth, likely to offer some version of denial or deflection, but Nathaniel didn't give her the chance. His hand moved to his jacket pocket — still wrapped around Emma's shoulders — retrieving instead the white envelope he'd been carrying in his blazer's inner pocket for the past week, containing the deposit confirmation and final venue details for their wedding, meant to be a surprise reveal at dinner tonight.
His expression contorted with a rage he'd rarely allowed himself to fully express in front of Vivian, the careful patience he'd extended her for the better part of a year finally, completely exhausted.
Vivian's eyes tracked the envelope in his hand, her earlier composure cracking slightly as she seemed to register, for the first time, the full weight of what she'd just cost herself with a single cruel sentence directed at a crying seven-year-old.
"Nathaniel—" she started, her voice losing its earlier cold confidence entirely.
He didn't let her finish. Holding Emma securely against him with one arm, he tore the envelope in half with the other, the sharp sound of ripping paper cutting cleanly through the sudden, heavy silence of the room.