Chapter 2

The next day, the world tilted on its axis.

A scream echoed from the wing of the White House where Sabrina and her illegitimate son resided. I was in the library with my daughter, Annabel, trying to read her a story she was too listless to enjoy.

Secret Service agents burst in.

"Ma'am, the President needs to see you. Immediately."

I found Wesley in Sabrina' s suite. She was sobbing hysterically, clutching her young son. The boy looked pale but was breathing fine. A half-eaten bowl of oatmeal was overturned on the floor.

"She tried to poison him!" Sabrina shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me. "My baby! She tried to kill my baby!"

Wesley' s eyes, cold as a winter sea, locked onto mine. For ten years, I had accepted every accusation, every humiliation, with silent endurance. It was the only way to survive.

But hearing his murder plot had changed me. The old Jocelyn was gone.

"I didn't do it," I said.

My voice was quiet, but it echoed in the tense room like a gunshot.

Wesley' s composure cracked. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his face. It was the first time in a decade I had denied anything.

His surprise hardened into rage.

"You dare?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

He didn't need proof. He didn't need a trial. He had all the power.

"Confine her to her quarters," he ordered the agents. "She will undergo a full psychological evaluation. I want to know just how unstable she is."

He leaned in close, his breath hot on my ear. "And make sure the press gets pictures of her... distress. The world needs to see the madwoman I've been forced to live with."

It wasn't a punishment. It was torture, packaged for public consumption.

As the agents led me away, I met his gaze. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. He had declared war. He just didn't know I was finally ready to fight back.