I was at the grocery store stocking up on holiday supplies when my phone suddenly pinged with a friend request.

The profile picture was a scenic shot I'd casually snapped years ago, and I knew right away who it was.

But we hadn't spoken in five years—total radio silence. I had no idea why Marcello Golden was popping up now, so I typed into the verification field: [What's going on?]

His reply flashed up almost instantly: [I'm back. Can we meet? I have something important to tell you in person.]

Something important? As I stared at those words, I found the situation both absurd and amusing.

What could be so important between us after all this time?

I pushed the thought aside, pulled out my phone to scan the payment code for the cashier, and once the transaction was complete, my first action was to block his contact permanently.

While I was waiting at a red light, my phone buzzed with a call from my best friend, Olive Sampson.

She started cautiously, "I heard he's back in town."

I cut her off flatly. "That has nothing to do with me."

She let out a deep sigh, her tone laced with clear frustration. "You know how small this world can be. People run into each other all the time. You're likely to cross paths eventually, and when that happens..."

"Not a chance," I cut in again. "He's out of my life for good."

I ended the call, but shortly after, my phone notified me of a message from our college class president, Adele Kinney.

She inquired whether I planned to attend this year's reunion and included a thoughtful note: [If you decide to skip it, I'm totally on board. Everyone gets your situation.]

Then she threw in some heartfelt words of comfort. As I gazed at the lengthy text on my screen, I found it strangely entertaining.

I had already moved past the ordeal, yet those around me seemed unable to let it go. Perhaps the intensity of the drama from back then had left such a lasting impression on them.

In truth, I had released all of it. These days, I even needed to concentrate to recall what Marcello Golden even looked like.

Once, he had been the center of my world—my deepest love and someone closer to me than family. We were childhood sweethearts who had shared every stage of life: the same elementary school, middle school, high school, and college, followed by studying abroad together.

My phone alarm went off, pulling me from my reverie. Right now, I had more important things to do. I parked at the base of a mountain and grabbed the bags I'd prepared, heading up to the chapel.

A young attendant spotted me and approached with a warm smile. "Ms. Lopez, you're here again."

I handed him some of the holiday items, and as he accepted them, curiosity lit up his eyes. "You've visited at this precise time every year for the past five years, without fail. May I ask why?"

I offered a smile but provided no answer, proceeding directly to the rear courtyard where a perpetually locked meditation room stood. I unlocked the door to reveal a sparse interior, featuring only a table that held a solitary memorial plaque.

I began unpacking the bags, arranging the contents on the table one by one while murmuring to myself, "The clerk at the toy store mentioned these are the most popular toys this year. I'm not sure if Ultraman is trending where you are, but I picked up several varieties just in case. And this blind box? They say it has a chance of containing a rare collectible. You'd love that."

After placing the toys, I set out an assortment of snacks. "You probably don't need to worry about brushing your teeth over there, right? So, feel free to indulge in chocolate right before bed without fearing cavities."

I chuckled at the thought, but soon tears began to stream down my face. With great care, I wiped the plaque that bore the name of my son, Jacob Golden.

Below it was my name, but the father's name was left blank.

Although the chapel offered parking closer to the top, I always chose to leave my car at the bottom so I could descend the path step by step.

The route consisted of a challenging 8,000 stone steps, and by the time I reached the end, my tears had typically dried.

As I approached my car, however, my phone rang once more. It was an unfamiliar number, but the voice coming through was unmistakable. "Even if you refuse to see me, you must at least allow me to see my son."

I ended the call right away and blocked that number, too. For a full five years, my life had been entirely free of Marcello, and I was thriving in that absence.

I drove back to the office, and as soon as I stepped in, my assistant wore a troubled expression. "Ma'am, that partner we've been negotiating with for months just pulled out."

I looked up, asking, "What was their reason? Our product quality and pricing are both competitive."

She appeared equally baffled. "I pressed for details, and they implied that we might have offended the owner of the Golden Group."

Even after all these years, Marcello's methods of pressuring others remained unchanged.

With a furrowed brow, she continued, "But our businesses don't even compete directly. Why would he target us?"

I set down my pen and said calmly, "Because he is my ex-husband."

Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth agape. "He's the one from those rumors—the man who cheated with the sales associate?"

She clapped a hand over her mouth, looking regretful. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

I waved it off, keeping my tone even. "It's ancient history. No harm in talking about it."

Still appearing remorseful, she lowered her head. "I always assumed those stories were fabricated. You're so accomplished. How could he possibly betray you?"

Back then, nearly everyone shared that sentiment, myself included. Yet reality demonstrated that no vows were truly eternal.

I returned Adele's call, considering that after my upcoming departure, opportunities to see them might become rare. Therefore, I wanted to arrange one final gathering with the girls from our dorm.

That evening, all six of us reunited, stocking up on a case of beer and declaring that no one would leave until we were thoroughly inebriated.

After several rounds, conversations grew more open and animated. Adele held her glass, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "Morgan, there's something I've never mentioned to you before. When Marcello couldn't locate you, he contacted me multiple times, requesting that I arrange a meeting. He claimed..."

Before she could finish, Dorothy Hubbard slammed her glass down and launched into a tirade. "Meet that ungrateful bastard? He can forget it! If not for your family raising him, he would be nothing more than an abandoned orphan today!"

Adele signaled for her to quiet down, concerned that it might upset me, but Dorothy pressed on with increasing fervor. "I have to say it! Without your parents exonerating his family, he would have nothing to his name. And how did he repay that? By betraying you—he doesn't deserve to breathe!"

She looked at me, the rims of her eyes reddening. "Morgan, you're just too kind. After everything he put you through, how can you remain so composed?"

I shrugged. "It's not about kindness. I've simply moved on."

Marcello was undeniably a scoundrel, but I had to admit his exceptional talent for business. When my parents finally cleared the Golden family's name, he was already 25, and their once-prosperous empire had collapsed entirely.

Nevertheless, he rebuilt it from scratch, turning it into a thriving enterprise. During those initial entrepreneurial days, I served as his most dependable ally.

Reflecting on those early struggles still stirred a sense of excitement within me; we had invested everything we had. To secure a major contract he coveted, I entertained a group of seasoned executives over drinks until I landed in the emergency room with a bleeding ulcer.

For a crucial project he prioritized, I endured four consecutive all-nighters to perfect the proposal. I practically resided in the office to realize his ambitions, so immersed that I failed to notice when he began his affair with that woman.

The first time I encountered Chloe Bennett was at Marcello's villa.

I had hurried over with the latest business plan to discuss it with him, but upon entering, I saw an unfamiliar woman kneeling on the floor, tenderly washing his mother's feet.

Marcello stood nearby, observing them with a gentle expression. Immediately, something felt amiss, but when I questioned him, he dismissed it casually. "She's merely a sales associate who connected well with my mom."

I attempted to probe further, but he furrowed his brow in irritation. "You're a professional woman with a career. Don't behave like those petty housewives consumed by jealousy."

I chose to believe him, convinced that our longstanding bond could withstand any challenge.

On the very day the Golden Group went public, we obtained our marriage license. However, complications arose swiftly, particularly when I spotted Chloe in the office.

She was dressed in sharp business attire, shadowing Marcello as his newly appointed executive assistant.

When I confronted him about the decision, his justification sounded impeccably reasoned. "Chloe possesses genuine ambition and drive. I appreciate subordinates with such potential for growth."

From that point forward, I sensed him deliberately diminishing my authority. The marketing department was one I had built from the ground up, carefully selecting every team member. Yet Chloe began dismissing them under fabricated pretexts, replacing them with her own allies.

When I complained to Marcello, he merely shrugged it off. "Only through survival of the fittest can the company truly advance."

It became evident that he was methodically undermining my position. As a co-founder, I was compelled to witness the disintegration of the team I had nurtured, which filled me with growing resentment and fury.

We engaged in a heated argument, during which I declared my intention to resign and launch my own venture. But just as I prepared to proceed, I discovered I was pregnant.

The awareness of that fragile life within me softened my resolve, and I willingly retreated to focus on our family, embracing the role of a contented housewife.

I believed my sacrifices for our home would earn his gratitude and understanding, but reality delivered another harsh blow.

Rumors about him and Chloe proliferated rapidly. Newspapers and magazines featured numerous photos of them attending events together, their interactions intimate and resembling those of a devoted couple.

When I presented those images to him in confrontation, he impatiently pulled me in front of a mirror. "Take a good look at yourself right now. Do you expect me to appear in public with you like this and become the subject of ridicule?"

Once trust was fractured, it was irreparable.

On Jacob's first birthday, our home was filled with guests. My intuition warned me that something unusual was about to unfold. Indeed, I entered our bedroom only to discover Marcello and Chloe entangled naked on our bed, with her wearing my favorite nightgown.

My mind went blank, and my stomach churned violently until I collapsed to my knees and vomited. Marcello displayed no remorse, only anger at being discovered. "If you dare to escalate this and humiliate me, I'll ensure your family is bankrupt by tomorrow."

Following that incident, he abandoned all pretense, openly bringing Chloe to live in our home. That was when I learned that his mother, who had always treated me like her own daughter, had been aware of their relationship from the beginning.

She even counseled me, "A man of his success is bound to have more than one woman in his life. You need to accept it and move forward."

I could no longer tolerate such a degrading and corrupt marriage, so I resolved to divorce him.