When my father, Thomas Morrison, was framed for money laundering and sent to prison, I begged my husband, Greg Norton, to get him out. He promised he would help and told me to wait. I waited three years, only to learn that my father had died in the prison hospital. After his death, the lawyer finally told me, "Your husband got hold of the bank records that prove your father's innocence a long time ago. He never turned them over." I set my father's glasses on the table and asked Greg, "Why didn't you hand them over?" He didn't deny it. He only defended his first love, Wendy Lawson. "If those records came out, everyone would know Wendy's father was the real money launderer. How could she ever show her face again? Her father is already dead. Why keep going after him?" I stared down at my father's glasses for a long moment. "My father is dead too." After a moment of silence, he reached for me. "I never thought it would end like this. Daisy, you still have me." The divorce papers on the table had arrived that very day. So he could marry Wendy, Greg had personally pushed the lawyers to finalize everything. I stepped away from his hand. No, I didn't have him anymore. And I no longer wanted his love.