All of Harbor City had witnessed Ivor Sanchez's obsession with Jocelyn Henson.
They were supposed to be sworn enemies, heirs to a blood feud that spanned generations. Instead, he'd climbed to the rooftop of the Sanchez estate and threatened to jump, gambling his own life until every last member of the Sanchez family bowed their heads and accepted her as his bride.
On the day of their wedding, ten miles of red carpet unfurled across Harbor City. Every business under the Sanchez Group had Jocelyn Henson's name added to its registry. Even the master keys to the Sanchez estate were handed over to her without a moment's hesitation.
After the wedding, Ivor Sanchez became something even more extreme: a man who orbited his wife like a man possessed.
When a branch family member dared mock her background behind closed doors, he flipped the table on the spot and stripped them of every share they held. Then he put out the word: anyone who made his wife unhappy would disappear from Harbor City entirely.
The man they called the Devil Sanchez, the name that made all of Harbor City tremble, had nothing left but boundless tenderness in Jocelyn Henson's presence.
Three years passed with no child. Ivor weathered a tidal wave of pressure from the family and publicly declared he would rather have no heir at all than put her through IVF.
In the end, it was Jocelyn who begged him, tears streaming down her face, saying she wanted to give him a baby. Only then did Ivor relent, staying by her side through every grueling step of the process.
The day the embryo transfer succeeded, he held her in the hospital room and cried for a long time.
Jocelyn believed those were tears of joy. She believed that decades of enmity between their families had finally been erased by a love this fierce, this consuming.
That same day, the doctor confirmed the pregnancy was stable. Jocelyn made soup, giddy with happiness, and carried it to his study. But outside the door, she heard his voice, low and careful, giving instructions to his assistant.
"Make sure everything's arranged on the Swiss end. Nellie's health is fragile. She's not to worry about a single thing regarding this child."
The assistant hesitated. "Mr. Sanchez, it's all been arranged. But the medication Miss Henson's been taking... should we continue? She's already lost almost all her fertility. If she keeps taking it, there's no telling what other damage it could cause."
Ivor paused. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped even lower.
"Keep her on it. The only thing that matters right now is protecting this baby."
"Nellie stayed by my brother's side for years, all for my sake. All she ever wanted was this child. But those years took a toll on her body, and she can't carry one herself."
"If the baby can come from Jocelyn, it fulfills both their wishes. Everyone gets what they want."
"But what if Miss Henson finds out the truth? What if she makes a scene?"
Ivor's tone was absolute.
"Jocelyn cut ties with the Henson family to be with me. Without me, where would she even go?"
"She's carrying Nellie's child for me. I won't treat her badly for it. Nellie can never be seen in public anyway. The title of Mrs. Sanchez will always belong to Jocelyn. Once this is over, I'll make it up to her."
Jocelyn stood frozen in the hallway, the blood in her veins turning to ice.
The woman Ivor was talking about was Nellie Harding.
Rumors had always swirled that Nellie was Ivor's first love. After her family's ruin, she'd ended up in the red-light district before finding her way to the eldest Sanchez son.
Jocelyn lowered her gaze to the soup she was holding. A thin film of grease had congealed across the surface, cloudy and still. The joy that had filled her chest curdled into a nausea so violent she could barely breathe.
Hatred surged through her. She raised her hand to push the door open and demand answers. But the moment her fingers touched the handle, the study door swung inward.
Ivor saw her and blinked in surprise. His gaze drifted to the cold soup in her hands, and he smiled, a helpless, indulgent curve of his lips.
"Did Mom have the kitchen make you another one of those broths? If you don't want it, just pour it out. No one's going to force you."
His fingertips brushed her hand, and his brow furrowed instantly. "You're freezing. Are you feeling alright?"
Jocelyn looked at him, testing the waters.
"I don't want to take the medication anymore. It makes me nauseous every time."
Something flickered across Ivor's face. He pulled her into his arms, pressing his warm palm gently against her belly.
"Be good. Don't you want a baby that's ours? Your body's delicate. You have to keep taking the medicine so the baby stays safe."
Jocelyn closed her eyes. Every organ inside her felt like it was being crushed in a fist, sinking inch by inch.
She pulled away from his embrace, lowering her gaze to hide everything roiling beneath the surface. "Okay. Go ahead and finish up. I'll go rest."
Ivor kissed the top of her head, then instructed the staff repeatedly to stay by her side and attend to her every need before finally letting her return to the bedroom.
The instant the door closed behind her, every trace of color drained from Jocelyn's face. She slid down the cold wood of the door until she was sitting on the floor, and the tears she'd been holding back finally broke free.
With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and scrolled to a number she'd blocked three years ago. She dialed.
"Dad. I know I was wrong. Please help me file for divorce."
