When Nellie Harding was brought back to the Sanchez estate, she was trembling so violently she could barely stand. She assumed her affair with Ivor had been discovered by the Sanchez elders. Or perhaps Ivor had found someone new and intended to use the family's authority to dispose of his dirty little secret once and for all.
Then she saw Jocelyn, and every trace of panic vanished from her face.
"Well, well. If it isn't the Henson girl." A slow smile spread across her lips. "So you've finally figured it all out?"
Nellie braced herself against the floor and rose to her feet, taking her time, her gaze dripping with undisguised triumph and contempt.
"You went through all that trouble to drag me back here. Don't tell me you actually think it'll change anything?"
"Come to think of it, I really should be thanking you. If you hadn't arranged my return to Harbor City, I'd never have found such a perfect excuse to come back to Ivor's side. To stay with him for good."
"And don't go feeling sorry for yourself. The only person who's ever been in his heart is me. I may have been overseas, but even I know the Henson family isn't what it used to be."
"Everything you have now? He gave it to you out of pity. You'd be better off keeping me happy. Play your cards right, and maybe I'll put in a good word with Ivor. Let you enjoy a few more peaceful days."
Before the last word left her mouth, Jocelyn's hand cracked across her face.
The slap landed full and hard. Nellie's cheek swelled instantly, flushing an angry red. She stared at Jocelyn in utter disbelief. It was clear she had never expected this woman, who had been nothing but docile and obedient at Ivor's side, to strike with such ferocity.
"Do you have any idea what I was like before I married into this family?"
"I'm Jocelyn Henson. At sixteen, I walked into a gambling den alone and dragged my deadbeat cousin out by his broken legs for the whole street to see. At eighteen, I tracked a con artist all the way to Thailand, pinned him down on the banks of the Chao Phraya River, and cut off his fingers one by one with my own hands."
"Everyone in Harbor City knows I don't take losses lying down. Anyone who makes me uncomfortable for a single moment, I make sure they never know comfort again."
Fear flickered through Nellie's eyes, but she stiffened her neck and held her ground. "Jocelyn Henson, things are different now! You lay a hand on me, and Ivor will never let you get away with it!"
As if to prove her point, the front door slammed open. Ivor stormed in, his gaze landing on Jocelyn first, his expression a tangle of emotions. "Jocelyn, let me explain. It's not what you think—"
But before he could reach her, Nellie threw herself into his arms, eyes brimming red. "Ivor, thank God you're here! I was so scared... She was going to throw me into some gutter in Harbor City. She said someone as filthy as me only deserved to serve beggars covered in dirt!"
Ivor's entire body went rigid. He looked down at the woman sobbing in his arms, tears streaking her face like rain on pear blossoms, and the urgency in his expression melted into raw tenderness.
He turned to Jocelyn, whose face had gone white, and his voice dropped to a warning. "Jocelyn. Nellie is mine."
"Stay in your lane. Play the dutiful Mrs. Sanchez, and we can all coexist in peace. But from this day forward, if she loses so much as a single hair, if anything goes wrong at all, don't blame me for forgetting whatever we once had."
Jocelyn stood where she was, watching him shield that woman.
The scene was painfully familiar.
Years ago, when the Henson family relocated their operations inland, every socialite in Harbor City had lined up to mock and exclude her. Ivor had stepped in front of her just like this, time after time. Flipping tables. Seizing shares. Making threats. Making sure the entire city knew that Mrs. Sanchez was untouchable.
Now she finally understood. All that desperate protection had only ever served one purpose: to keep her content inside her cage. To make her the willing shield for the woman he truly loved. To raise the children. To stay quiet.
Every tenderness had been a lie.
Every act of protection, a calculation for better use.
Something inside Jocelyn went flat. Dead. Utterly spent.
"Ivor Sanchez. I've committed every word you just said to memory. I hope you never forget them either."
She turned and walked toward the staircase.
She had barely reached the landing when a tearing pain ripped through her lower abdomen. Days of medication had hollowed her body to nothing. Her strength gave out, and darkness swallowed her vision whole.
Ivor watched her swaying figure and felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of panic. He was about to step forward when Nellie went limp in his arms, her eyes fluttering shut as she slid downward.
"Nellie! Doctor! Get a doctor, now!"
He snapped his gaze back, swept her up in his arms, and rushed for the door.
Behind him, Jocelyn tumbled down the staircase. Blood seeped from beneath her, spreading across the floor in a widening stain.
No one looked back.
