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.

However, just as I prepared to initiate the divorce proceedings, Jacob was diagnosed with acute leukemia.

The doctors explained that a bone marrow transplant offered the best chance for recovery. I underwent testing immediately, but I was not a match.

In my despair, Marcello's test results came back positive, transforming him into my final lifeline for saving our son.

For Jacob's sake, I postponed the divorce. Marcello donated bone marrow twice, and both procedures succeeded, gradually stabilizing Jacob's condition.

But then, Chloe announced her pregnancy. She consulted a supposed mystic who proclaimed that her child was a lucky star for the Golden family, destined to bring unending prosperity. The entire household treated the unborn baby like a precious gem.

Chloe complained that her current room had poor orientation and coveted our master bedroom. Marcello permitted her to evict me to a storage room.

She then insisted that Jacob's well-lit room would be ideal for her child's nursery. I watched as the staff discarded his beloved toys and books into the trash, and I could no longer contain myself.

I rushed forward to intervene. "You cannot touch my son's belongings!"

But the bodyguards Marcello had hired specifically to protect Chloe obeyed her commands and restrained me on the floor. She reclined on the sofa, her lips curled in a provocative smirk. "Want me to spare his room? Sure. Lick my shoes clean, and I'll call them off."

"You're delusional!" I glared at her. "You wretched woman! You'll get what you deserve!"

No sooner had the words left my mouth than my hair was seized, followed by a sharp slap across my face that left my cheek swollen and burning.

Marcello loomed over me, his gaze devoid of warmth. "Have you lost your mind? Chloe is carrying the future of our family. How dare you curse at her like that?"

In the past, even a minor scrape on my skin would have caused him distress, yet now he was striking me for another woman.

From that day onward, life for Jacob and me became increasingly unbearable. Under Chloe's influence, the housekeeper served us spoiled meals. Our cramped storage room was dim and chilly, lacking heat during the winter months.

One midnight, Jacob woke me up, crying, "Mom, I'm hungry."

I attempted to sneak to the kitchen for food, but Chloe discovered me and shrieked accusations of theft.

With temperatures plummeting to ten degrees below zero, Marcello confined me to the outdoor garden for the entire night.

I shivered until my lips turned purple, repeatedly reminding myself to endure just a little longer. Once Jacob recovered, everything would improve.

The doctors assured me that a third bone marrow transplant would restore his health completely. Clinging to that hope, I tolerated every indignity and torment. Yet I never anticipated Marcello's ultimate betrayal.

The day before the scheduled surgery, I noticed the household staff packing luggage, which triggered a wave of unease.

I confronted him, and he responded as nonchalantly as if discussing the weather. "Chloe prefers to give birth in Eloavale, and the company requires expansion overseas anyway, so we're relocating tomorrow."

My blood ran cold. "What about Jacob's surgery?"

He shrugged dismissively. "I've secured a new donor for him. The procedure will proceed as planned. Don't worry. Once I sort things out abroad, I'll be back."

I immediately called Jacob's attending doctor to confirm, only to learn the surgery was canceled—with no new donor in sight.

In a frenzy, I demanded answers from Marcello. "Why did you cancel it? Are you trying to kill him?"

He snapped back, impatient. "Stop being unreasonable! You're simply fabricating issues to prevent our departure!"

To ensure no delays in his plans, he ordered us locked in the wine cellar.

My phone rang, interrupting the painful recollection. Assuming it was my daughter calling for a bedtime story, I answered promptly.

Instead, Marcello's furious roar echoed through the line. "They claim Jacob is gone!"