Back from the Dead The Billionaire's Wife He Should Never Have Betrayed

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."

In the days that followed, Jocelyn was listless. She spent hours curled up in the rocking chair without a word, refusing to touch even the sweet soups she'd always loved.

Ivor assumed it was nothing more than pregnancy hormones wreaking havoc on her mood. He cleared his entire schedule on the spot and planted himself in the villa, never leaving her side.

Worried she couldn't keep anything down, the man who had never so much as boiled water in his life stationed himself in the kitchen every day, simmering broths and soups from scratch. Hot oil spattered his fingertips and raised angry red blisters, but he didn't flinch. He simply carried a bowl of bird's nest porridge to her bedside and coaxed her to eat in the gentlest voice he could manage.

But that tenderness evaporated the instant he found the box of prenatal medication sitting untouched.

Ivor summoned the doctor to monitor the baby, then strode over and pinned Jocelyn down, ignoring every ounce of her struggle.

"Be good. Just bear with it for a second. I know you're uncomfortable, but I can't risk our child."

Her lower back slammed against the edge of the counter. Pain whited out her vision.

The needle pierced her skin. Her whole body seized, and tears fell before she could stop them.

In that moment, Jocelyn's mind hurled her back three years, to the Henson family's ancestral hall.

She had taken thirty lashes of the family rod to marry him. She'd knelt until she blacked out and still refused to give him up.

Ivor had scaled the Henson estate walls in the dead of night, gathered her into his arms, and wept as he swore, "Jocelyn, I will never betray you. Not in this lifetime."

She had believed those lashes were medals of honor, proof of what she'd sacrificed for love.

Now she knew the truth. Everything she'd gambled had bought her nothing but a ticket into the abyss.

The injection finished. Ivor finally exhaled. He pulled her limp body into his arms, fingers fumbling to wipe away her tears.

"Shh, don't cry. I'm only doing this because I'd hate for you to regret it later. It wasn't easy for us to be together. Getting pregnant was even harder. If something happened to this baby, you'd blame me for the rest of your life."

Jocelyn kept her eyes shut, smothering the hatred that churned behind them. Deep inside, she made a vow.

Ivor. Nellie. What you owe me, I will collect. Every last cent, a thousandfold.

After that injection, her morning sickness spiraled out of control. Even a sip of warm water sent her into violent, full-body retching. Ivor was beside himself, scouring Harbor City for every specialist he could find, glued to her bedside around the clock.

Then came another checkup at the private clinic. Jocelyn stepped out of the restroom and heard Ivor's voice drifting from behind the consultation room door, mid-conversation with the doctor.

"Mr. Sanchez, Miss Henson's physical reactions are abnormal. Frankly, that course of medication shouldn't be producing side effects this severe. We strongly recommend stopping it immediately and running a full panel of tests."

Ivor hesitated. When he spoke, his voice was low and firm. "No. If we stop the medication, I'm worried it'll affect the baby. Nellie's had a hard enough time these past few years. I don't want to disappoint her again."

Jocelyn went rigid. The hatred that flooded through her was so vast it nearly swallowed her whole.

That evening, the moment Ivor left to handle business, she picked up the phone and dialed.

"The woman in Switzerland. Nellie Harding. Bring her back to Harbor City. Now."

She hung up, crossed the room, and opened the safe. Inside sat Ivor's private seal, the one that granted access to every asset he owned. She took it without a second's hesitation and sent it straight to the divorce attorney she'd already retained.

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.

The acrid bite of disinfectant clawed its way into her nostrils. Jocelyn was about to open her eyes when she heard Ivor's voice, laced with concern.

"Doctor, how is she doing? She's not in any danger, is she?"

Before the doctor could answer, Ivor pressed on. "Skip the medical jargon. Just tell meis the baby all right?"

Jocelyn's heart plunged into ice. She forced her head up.

"Get out. Get the hell out!"

Ivor turned to her, wearing that familiar mask of tenderness. "You're awake? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"

He reached out to touch her forehead, but she jerked her head away.

His hand froze in midair. Something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.

"Jocelyn..."

"I said get out."

He withdrew his hand and sat on the edge of the bed, a thin veneer of pity settling over his features.

"Since you already know everything, let's stop pretending. Let's lay our cards on the table."

"You cut ties with the Henson family years ago. Without me, who's going to protect you?"

"I'll let yesterday slide. But from now on, you don't touch her."

"As for the babyconsider it my way of making things right with her. But the child will only ever call you Mom. That should satisfy you."

Jocelyn opened her eyes fully. Her voice was flat, almost serene.

"Are you done? Then get out."

Ivor's expression darkened.

"I'd advise you to know your place, Jocelyn. You know exactly how many women would kill to be Mrs. Sanchez. Keep pushing me, and"

Jocelyn said nothing.

He stared at her ashen face, and whatever threat he'd been building died on his tongue. He left it at "Rest up," then turned and walked out of the room.

The moment he was gone, Jocelyn had someone dig up every last skeleton in Nellie Harding's closet.

She'd entered the red-light district at fifteen. Latched onto the Sanchez family's eldest son at eighteen. The three years in between produced a list of men long enough to fill a page. Several of them were still prominent figures in Harbor City.

Every damning photo, every sordid detail was fed straight to every media outlet in the city.

The articles lasted less than thirty minutes. Every reposted link turned into a 404 error. Every forum thread was scrubbed clean, as though none of it had ever existed.

The hospital room door was kicked open.

Ivor stormed to her bedside, radiating fury. Every trace of tenderness had been stripped away.

"I warned you not to touch her. You just had to push me, didn't you? You really think I won't do anything to you?"

"Since you're so fond of dragging people's pasts into the light, I'll make sure all of Harbor City sees exactly who the real lunatic is. The real vicious, scheming thing."

Before the sun had even set, the bombshell about Jocelyn Henson was all over the city. Fabricated psychiatric records circulated everywhereofficial-looking documents declaring she suffered from severe paranoid personality disorder with uncontrollable violent tendencies.

Even the three childless years of her marriage were twisted into a narrative of mental illness ravaging her body. Rumors spread that she had repeatedly tried to harm the baby she carried.

Overnight, the woman every socialite in Harbor City had once envied became a madwoman no one would go near. The Henson family's businesses took collateral damage from the fallout.

Ignoring every objection from the doctors, Ivor seized the opportunity to have her transferred to Stillwater Abbey on the outskirts of the city, under the polished excuse of "rest and recuperation."

Jocelyn tried to escape multiple times. Each attempt was intercepted. Ivor never showed his face; he only sent someone with her medication each day.

The meditation chamber was cold and damp. Jocelyn stared at the occasional flash of headlights on the road below the mountain, trapped in that tiny room with nowhere to go.

Then, on her birthday, rain fell over Stillwater Abbey all through the night.

A sound came from outside the door. Jocelyn opened it, puzzled, and found an unfamiliar monk standing in the rain, holding out a letter.

The letter bore no signature, only a few spare lines.

"Twenty years ago, I too believed I had found a good man. Then, seven months into my pregnancy, I overheard him discussing plans with someone else. Once I delivered the child, they would have me committed to Greenhill Asylum and tell the world I'd lost my mind. The baby would be handed to a woman he'd been hiding for years."

"The men of the Sanchez family have always excelled at one thing: using love as bait to lure a woman into a cage, then making her bear children for the woman they truly love."

"I know you're angry. But remember this: when you're crossing a swamp and a crocodile clamps down on your leg, don't waste your strength fighting it. Use the moment it has you in its jaws to get yourself out."

Something stirred deep in Jocelyn's chest.

Twenty years ago, the eldest daughter of the Henson family had married into the Sanchez household. Three years later, she perished in a fire. The Sanchez family had surrendered half a street's worth of property to settle the matter.

But everyone said it was an accident.

She lowered her gaze and tucked the letter away. Footsteps sounded outside the door.

The wooden door of the meditation chamber swung open. Ivor stood in the cold mountain rain, impeccably tailored in a black suit. When he took in Jocelyn's gaunt, hollow appearance, a flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by the magnanimous air of a man bestowing a gift.

"Jocelyn. You've had plenty of time to reflect. Surely you know what you did wrong by now."

"It's your birthday. I came to take you home personally. From now on, we'll keep up appearances in public, the loving couple, same as always. No more making us a laughingstock."

Jocelyn didn't respond. She didn't resist. Like a puppet with its strings cut, she followed him to the car, rode in silence across half of Harbor City, and returned to that gilded cage.

The moment she stepped onto the terrace, every light across Victoria Harbor went dark.

Then the sky exploded. Fireworks erupted across the horizon, cascading rivers of color that painted the night in blinding brilliance.

Yachts glided across the water in a slow procession, each one bearing an enormous illuminated sign: Happy Birthday to Mrs. Sanchez.

On the far shore, the same words blazed in towering letters across the face of a skyscraper, visible from every corner of the city.

Jocelyn stood perfectly still. The fireworks lit her face, but there was nothing in her expression at all.

The last time the sky had burned like this, she had gone from Miss Henson to Mrs. Sanchez.

But Ivor had never known that she hated fireworks.

When she was a little girl, her father had offered to set off fireworks for her birthday. She'd said no. All she wanted was a lamp that would stay lit.

Fireworks were beautiful, sure. But they didn't last. The moment they bloomed, they were already gone. You couldn't hold on to them.

Her father had laughed at her. So sentimental for such a little thing.

Now she finally understood. What she'd said back then had been a prophecy.

Her love hadn't even lasted as long as a firework.

Ivor wrapped his arms around her from behind, his voice a warm murmur against her ear. "Do you like it, Jocelyn? The whole city is celebrating your birthday."

Her gaze drifted to the last wave of fireworks waiting to launch in the distance. The brilliant points of light flickered in her eyes, bright then dark, bright then dark, without a trace of warmth.

"Ivor. Let's get a divorce."

The arms around her waist clamped tight. "What did you just say?"

She peeled his hands away. "I said drop the act. Let each other go."

A nameless panic spread through him. His expression darkened in an instant.

He was about to speak when the final firework screamed skyward, then suddenly veered off course, spiraling wildly as flames sprayed in every direction.

Ivor spun around and seized Jocelyn by the throat, fingers digging in. "This was you, wasn't it? When did you become this vicious? You won't stop until Nellie is dead?"

Jocelyn couldn't breathe. Her fingers clawed weakly at his wrists as she struggled.

Firelight danced across Ivor's face. That face, once the gentlest she had ever known, was now twisted beyond recognition.

"Nellie begged me for days to let her plan your birthday, to make you happy. She even stationed herself at the launch site personally to make sure nothing went wrong. And you tried to kill her!"

Jocelyn felt her neck creak under the pressure. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes, beyond her control.

"Let... let go! Even if I wanted her dead, I wouldn't use something this stupid!"

Ivor hurled her aside through clenched teeth. "You're beyond saving, Jocelyn. I don't have time for this."

He released her and ran out without a backward glance.

Jocelyn curled up on the ground, coughing violently, her body shaking with the raw relief of survival.

But before she could even catch her breath, a deafening crash came from above. A burning section of one of the illuminated signs plummeted down and slammed into the ground less than two feet from where she lay.

She flinched, instinctively drawing her limbs in tight, and forced her head up. At the far end of her vision, Ivor's silhouette was disappearing through the emergency exit.

A second later, the steel door was locked from the outside, sealing off every way out.

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! Youyou'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 isNellie'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 unbiddenall 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?"

Every trace of tenderness vanished from Ivor's face. He seized Jocelyn's chin in a vise grip, his words grinding through clenched teeth. "Go ahead and try, Jocelyn. As long as you're not afraid of someone ending up dead, I'll play this game with you to the very end."

A contemptuous smile curved her lips. She was about to respond when the door swung open and a nurse rushed in.

"Mr. Sanchez! What are you doing? She just came out of critical conditionlet go of her!"

Only then did Ivor realize how far he'd slipped. His fingers loosened, and he forced the savage fury churning behind his eyes back down.

"Noted. Leave the medication and get out. My wife and I still have things to discuss."

The room fell silent again. Ivor studied her face, pale as paper, and frowned with displeasure.

"When are you going to learn to be as considerate as Nellie? She got hurt in that accident tooher face was injuredand she's still worried about you. She's been blaming herself so much she won't even see me."

"She wanted to come apologize to you in person. But I know exactly what kind of reception she'd get here, so I stopped her."

"Even so, she still feels terrible. She's been in the kitchen every single day making soup, just so you'd have something warm the moment you woke up."

"That's the kind of heart she has. And yet you just tried to send her to prison." He shook his head slowly. "That's cold, Jocelyn. Even for you."

He paused, watching her expression, then continued. "Here's what's going to happen. That gallery of yours in CentralI've decided to give it to Nellie to run. I'll have the paperwork sent over shortly. All you need to do is sign."

It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water in her face. Jocelyn stared at him, stunned.

"What... what did you just say?"

"That's mine! It's my premarital asset. What gives you the right to hand my property to someone else?"

The calm mask on Ivor's face cracked apart, revealing the darkness coiled beneath.

"What gives me the right? The fact that you're my wife." His eyes narrowed. "All that talk about finding other menyou were testing me, weren't you?"

"All these years, and you still can't forget him. Why else would you guard this gallery he gave you so fiercely that I can't so much as touch it?"

Pain lanced through Jocelyn's chest. The man in front of her grew more irrational by the second.

She'd been seventeen. He had guided her through her first financial report, taught her how to negotiate, taught her how to stand her ground in a world that devoured the weak.

He had been her first love. In the end, it simply faded awayno dramatic ending, just silence.

But the gallery wasn't precious because of him.

It was precious because of everything she'd built between seventeen and twenty-seven, piece by painstaking piece. Her empire, assembled one brick at a time.

It was her lifeblood. Her proof of existence in this worlda flame that would never go out.

She had believed, once, that Ivor understood that.

She never imagined he would take her ambition and her pride and weaponize thema gift to appease another woman, a blade turned against herself.

Jocelyn's fists twisted into the bedsheets until her knuckles went white. Her voice trembled. "I will never sign that over to you."

Ivor, hearing this, grew eerily calm. A faint smile even tugged at the corner of his mouthas though her fury were nothing more than a pet baring its teeth.

"You won't sign? That's fine. I was only informing you as a courtesy."

"While you were lying unconscious in this bed, I already lifted your fingerprints. The transfer paperwork for the gallery should be going into effect any minute now."

He leaned in close. A vein pulsed at his temple. "You knew this the day you married me, Jocelyn. When I want something, I get it. Always."

Something detonated inside her skull. Without thinking, she grabbed the glass from the bedside table and hurled it at his face.

Glass shattered with a bright, clean crack. Blood traced a slow line down from Ivor's brow. He didn't flinch. Didn't step back. He let the blood smear across half his vision and advanced on the bed, step by deliberate step.

"Neither you nor Nellie will ever be allowed to leave my side."

He turned and slammed the door behind him.

Jocelyn stared at his retreating figure and remembered the first time she'd met him. Back then, he'd been the Sanchez family's unremarkable second sonan older brother above him whose brilliance cast a long shadow, branch families circling below like wolves. He was trapped in the middle, belonging nowhere.

In those days, when people in Harbor City spoke of the Sanchez family, they knew the eldest son. Nobody knew Ivor.

But he had clawed his way forward through sheer ruthlessness, tearing open a path by force.

After Jocelyn married him, she had cleared every obstacle in his way, one by one, until he sat securely at the helm of the Sanchez Group. The man everyone feared. The man everyone called Mr. Sanchez.

Yet he knew it himselfhe didn't possess the talent or finesse of those he'd surpassed. The only thing he had was madness.

A madman's greed to seize. A madman's obsession to possess. And a madman's compulsion to destroy everything he couldn't have.

Jocelyn felt a sudden, piercing clarity: this man was pathetic.

His heart had rotted through long ago, eaten away day after day by jealousy and resentment until nothing was left.

Her gaze drifted to Victoria Harbor, glittering with light beyond the window, and a resolve crystallized inside her.

She could not let this lunatic keep using the Henson family's foundation to rule Harbor City unchallenged.

Jocelyn reached for her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Interested in a deal with guaranteed returns?"

"Who am I?" A beat. "Jocelyn Henson. Heiress of the Henson family."

Jocelyn went back to the Sanchez estate after her discharge to pack her things.

The moment she pushed the door open, Nellie walked toward her wearing one of Jocelyn's silk loungewear sets.

"You're back? Ivor said you wouldn't be out for a few more days, so he brought me over early to take care of you."

She stepped closer and dropped her voice to a whisper.

"Don't overthink it. I'm not going to fight you for anything. After all... it's already mine."

Before Jocelyn could respond, Nellie's eyes turned red in an instant and she crumpled to the floor, just as Ivor descended the staircase and caught the whole scene.

"Ivor, I only wanted to apologize to Jocelyn, but she... she called me a cheap whore. Said I wasn't fit to touch her things. I don't want the gallery anymore. I don't even need a title. I just want to stay by your side!"

Ivor crossed the room in three strides and helped Nellie to her feet. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes burned with fury. He couldn't understand why, even after handing Nellie over for Jocelyn to deal with as she pleased, she still wasn't satisfied. Wasn't that already the biggest concession he could make?

"I've bent over backwards trying to make you happy. I've laid the finest things in all of Harbor City at your feet, and all you can see is the man who gave you that gallery!"

"Nellie doesn't even ask for a title. All she wants is to stay quietly by my side. So fine. From now on, I won't waste another ounce of effort trying to please you."

He pulled out the private seal that should have been mailed to the lawyer and held it up in front of Jocelyn's face.

"Still waiting for Daddy to come save you? He settled with me a long time ago. I gave him shipping rights to three of Harbor City's docks, and he told me himself he would never help you file for divorce."

"Or did you forget? You were the one who humiliated him in the first place. You really think he still cares about you? I'm the only one left who's willing to protect you."

As he spoke, he unlocked his phone. Every major outlet in Harbor City was running the same headline, accompanied by photos of him and Nellie at high-profile events. The banner read: MRS. SANCHEZ JR. BASKS IN CEO'S FAVOR MISS HENSON REPORTEDLY COMMITTED TO PSYCHIATRIC FACILITY AFTER FALLING FROM GRACE.

Jocelyn's pupils contracted, but she kept silent.

Ivor's voice softened, edged with something almost like pleading.

"Jocelyn. Just give in. Is that so hard?"

"Just give in, and I'll send Nellie back where she belongs. You're Mrs. Sanchez. You'll always be Mrs. Sanchez."

Jocelyn stared at him for a long moment, then lowered her head and laughed.

"You really do make me regret it more every day."

The color drained from Ivor's face. "What did you just say?"

"I said I look down on you."

"You know Nellie framed me, and you still played along with her little performance. You know exactly what she is, and you still hold her like she's made of glass. You know what I wanted, and you handed my things to her one by one."

"You're not stupid. You're a coward."

"Ivor Sanchez, you make me sick."

Ivor's chest heaved. His features twisted, and his hand rose to strike her across the face. But slowly, it dropped back to his side.

"Fine. Just fine."

"Jocelyn Henson, let's see how long that spine of yours holds up."

He spun toward the door and bellowed down the stairs. "Jasper James! Starting today, she gets nothing but water. Not a single thing. Let's see how many days she lasts."

The old butler glanced at Jocelyn with hesitation in his eyes but didn't dare defy the order.

Ivor turned back one last time and looked at her.

"When I get back from Switzerland with Nellie, I hope you still have the strength to beg."

Three days later. Switzerland.

Ivor stood at the summit of Jungfrau Peak, gazing out over the vast white expanse below. His chest felt hollow.

Nellie clung to his arm, her smile coy and sweet. "I like it so much better here. Can we stay a few more days?"

Ivor said nothing. All he could see was the way Jocelyn had looked at him that last time.

Calm. Distant. Like she was looking at a stranger.

No. Worse than a stranger. She had looked at him the way someone looks at garbage.

"Ivor? What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

He pulled his gaze from the horizon and was about to walk on when his phone rang.

His heart skipped a beat.

He answered. On the other end came Jasper's voice, old and trembling.

"Sir... Harbor City... a magnitude-seven earthquake. The estate collapsed completely. Your wife... they couldn't get her out."