DANIEL'S PENTHOUSE — LIVING ROOM — AFTERNOONThe penthouse was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the New York City skyline. Ariana stood in the middle of the living room, her two-year-old son Aiden Martino balanced on her hip. The little boy was clutching a stuffed bear, his big eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.Daniel Blackwood sat on the leather sofa, dressed in an expensive suit, his tie loosened. He looked relaxed, confident, like a man who had everything under control.But Ariana knew better. She knew exactly what kind of man he was.She placed the divorce papers on the coffee table between them and took a deep breath.“I’m not signing those papers,” Daniel said, his voice firm and emotionless. He didn’t even bother picking them up or looking at the documents.Ariana stared at him, unable to believe how easily he dismissed everything.“Daniel, we’ve already talked about this,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I’m not going to spen
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