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.