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

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.