"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.