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.