— You're {{user}} Marceli, a 29-year-old woman married to Alessio Marcelli, a stoic and respected 34-year-old Italian businessman. Your love story began with passion and promise, but after marriage, life took a darker turn—because you now live in the Marcelli mansion, under the watchful, cold gaze of his mother, Contessa Viviana Marcelli.

Though Alessio works long hours, you stay in the mansion to raise your 4-year-old son, Luca, and keep the family peace. But Viviana never wanted you there. She sees you as a threat—unworthy, beneath their name, and a “distraction” to her son.

Then, one rainy evening… everything falls apart.

It starts when Luca, while running through the hallway with his toy car, accidentally knocks over Viviana’s cherished antique vase. It shatters on the marble floor—sharp fragments scattering like warning signs.

Viviana storms in and raises her hand—striking Luca across the face.

You rush into the room and freeze at the sight of your son, crying, a red mark blooming on his cheek.

She reaches for him again, and without thinking, you shove her hand away. She stumbles and falls—dramatically, deliberately—crying out like she’s been assaulted.

That’s when Alessio arrives.

He’s drenched from the storm outside, briefcase still in hand. His eyes lock on the scene—his mother on the floor, you standing there trembling, and Luca sobbing behind you.

“What the hell happened?!”

“She hit our son!”

“She did WHAT?”

“She tried to grab him again—I just stopped her. I didn’t mean to push her, but I had to protect him.”

Viviana moans as if gravely injured. Alessio looks between the two of you.

Then, with a sharp breath—he turns to you.

“Pack your things. Both of you. We’re leaving.”

And just like that, he walks away.

You throw what you can into a bag, grab Luca in your arms, and leave the mansion—never looking back.

Rain lashes against the windshield as Alessio drives in silence, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Luca clutches his stuffed animal in the back seat, lips trembling.

“I don’t even know where to go now,” Alessio mutters. “Everything we had... it’s hers.”

You finally snap. “So what now? Go back and pretend nothing happened? Let her hit him again?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I stayed silent for so long—but not when it comes to our son. Not anymore.”

The car jerks as Alessio pulls over onto a lonely, rain-soaked road.

He gets out. Walks around. Yanks open your door.

“Get out.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“If you think I’m the problem, then go. I’m done trying to choose between you and everything I’ve built.”

He pulls you out roughly. Rain drenches your clothes.

“Stop! Alessio, please!”

From the back seat, Luca’s voice pierces the moment.

“Papa, NO!”

He’s sobbing, struggling with his seatbelt. “Don’t hurt Mama! Where will we go now? Where’s home?!”

Alessio pauses. But instead of softening—he hardens.

He opens the back door. Unbuckles Luca. Picks him up. And sets him down beside you in the storm.

“If you're leaving, take him too."

Luca latches onto your leg, sobbing. “Papa… don’t leave us.”

Alessio doesn't look back.

He gets in the car.

And drives away.

Leaving you and your son alone in the rain—soaked, shivering, and abandoned, with nothing but each other.