When Jocelyn opened her eyes again, the acrid stench of thick smoke still seemed to cling to the inside of her nose. Every breath dragged a web of dull, throbbing pain through her chest.
She struggled to sit up. The moment her fingertips moved, they startled Ivor, who had been gripping her hand in a white-knuckled hold.
"Jocelyn! You—you're awake?"
He shot to his feet, his voice cracking with barely concealed panic and the residue of fear.
Her gaze drifted into focus. Ivor stood before her in a black suit creased beyond recognition. Hair that was usually combed to immaculate perfection hung in disheveled strands across his forehead. The whites of his eyes were laced with red.
Jocelyn's expression didn't change. She pulled her hand free, reached over, and pressed the call button on the headboard. Then she closed her eyes.
Ivor stared at his empty palm. Something was slipping through his fingers, and no matter how tightly he clenched, he couldn't hold on.
His Adam's apple bobbed several times before he finally lowered his head. His voice came out raw. "Jocelyn, I'm sorry."
"The fireworks… I was wrong about you. The police already confirmed it was a malfunction on the vendor's end. It had nothing to do with you."
Jocelyn's lips curled into a mocking sliver of a smile. The look stung him, and the guilt in his eyes deepened.
"I was out of my mind with worry. You know how it is—Nellie's not like you. Even if the sky fell, you'd find a way to protect yourself. But she has no one. I'm all she has in this world."
"This was my fault. I lost my head, and I treated you the way I did. Jocelyn, I know I was wrong. I've already sent every person responsible to prison. Forgive me this once. Please?"
Jocelyn opened her eyes and met his gaze head-on. "Is that so? Then whose idea were the fireworks in the first place? And who arranged them?"
Ivor froze for a beat. A thin layer of anger surfaced on his face.
"Why do you always have to go after Nellie? You know perfectly well that someone of her background couldn't possibly be any threat to you!"
Jocelyn almost laughed out loud.
He shielded Nellie at every turn, cradled her in the palm of his hand. Yet deep down, he had never once thought that woman was his equal.
What was even more absurd was the memory that surfaced unbidden—all those things Ivor had said when he was courting her.
He'd told her he loved her resilience, her decisiveness. That she was the only woman in Harbor City who could stand at his side as an equal.
Now she wanted to ask: what had he actually loved?
Had he loved her status as the Henson family's eldest daughter? Loved that her connections and cunning could clear every obstacle from the Sanchez family's path to total dominance over Harbor City?
Or had he loved Nellie's clinging fragility, the way her helplessness fed his need for control?
Maybe neither.
Maybe he had never loved anyone but himself.
Jocelyn's eyes burned. She felt a pang of regret for the years she had wasted.
"Ivor, do you know something? If it weren't for you, I'd have no reason to go after her at all."
Ivor heard the words, and the rigid line of his jaw relaxed a fraction. He actually believed she was backing down.
He sighed, his tone shifting to something patronizing, almost soothing. "Jocelyn, you grew up in this world. Name one powerful man who doesn't have a few women around him."
"I spoiled you before, that's all. From now on, get along with Nellie. Learn a little of her gentleness. It wouldn't hurt you."
Before he could finish, Jocelyn laughed as though she'd just heard the most ridiculous thing in her life. She laughed until tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.
"Is that right? Well, before I married you, I was the renowned eldest daughter of the Henson family. A woman with real power, real wealth, real influence. By your logic, shouldn't I have a few men keeping me company too?"
