When Emma said she did not want to be a burden to him and Riley, Michael answered with the simplest truth he had left: he did not want his daughter to grow up believing that every good person who entered her life would eventually leave. That sentence cut straight through her defenses.
Then the café door flew open. Vanessa walked in soaked by rain, eyes full of fury. She had followed him. She threw photographs across the table—pictures of Michael, Emma, and Riley on the beach, warm moments now twisted into ammunition.
She demanded to know whether he was truly willing to ruin his reputation for “that woman.” Michael answered with a calm that only enraged her more: “I’m not keeping her. I’m choosing her.” Vanessa laughed, cried, and then, in one violent motion, pulled a small knife from her bag. She lunged.
Michael threw himself in front of Emma. The blade sliced his arm, blood staining his shirt. The café erupted in screams. Customers tackled Vanessa while Emma dropped to the floor beside Michael, clutching his hand, crying that he was insane. He winced, smiled through the pain, and said, “Yes. Because you’re worth it.”