For three years I had lived in a gilded cage of my own making, surrounded by empty luxury and beautiful lies, and I had very nearly traded my life for a cheap shadow of love.

But watching my children laugh in the morning light, I knew I was whole again.

“I feel wonderful, Ivana,” I said, and the smile that came was a true one.

“I feel like I’m finally home.”

I think often now about the difference between the house I lived in during the Dulce years and the home I live in today, because they are the same building and could not be more different.

In those years the house was immaculate and full of expensive things and beautiful people, and it was the loneliest place I have ever been, because everything in it was performance and nothing in it was true.