Before consciousness faded, my final thought was that I would never trust anyone again.

For five years of marriage, he had provided me shelter when I was in most dire straits.

But it turned out that shelter had been designed from the beginning to push me into a deeper trap.

When I regained consciousness, the body's craving for morphine was the only thing I could perceive.

Despair swept over me like a black tide, swallowing me instantly.

Lorenzo had truly succeeded. He had been my most trusted confidant, and now he had turned me into an addict.

Tears flowed silently while hatred boiled like magma in my heart.

Withdrawal symptoms erupted hours later—a craving and torment rising from the depths of my soul, more terrifying than any physical injury.

My body convulsed in pain, cold sweat pouring out as I stared blankly at the ceiling.

At moments I even wishwed I were dead.

"Look at you, still alive?"

"Really a tough one, isn't she? hahahahha..."

A familiar voice shattered the room's silence. With what little rationality remained, I painfully turned my head.

Marina stepped into the room, her eyes filled with the smugness of victory.

She looked me up and down, with her expression mockingly playful—a silent ridicule.

"Isabella, look at you."

"Five years and you couldn't even keep your husband. Now you're just a junkie."

"You lost to me in love, and you've lost your territory too! You'll never be a threat to me again in this lifetime."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" I croaked.

It took a long while before my sluggish mind understood her meaning.

In that moment, everything collapsed—my dignity, my family's honor, everything I'd built.

Rage coursed through me, shattering what little composure I had left.

"Get out!" I screamed. "You have no right to be here! You're nothing but parasites, all of you!"

My outburst clearly entertained Marina; she even burst out laughing.

"Look, Isabella, your husband will do anything despicable for me. But in your current state, I doubt you can even appreciate my happiness."

"Get out!"

I ripped the IV needle from my arm with my left hand and grabbed everything within reach to throw at her.

Iron crucifix, Bible, candles—one after another.

But I had overestimated this broken body of mine. After just a few throws, I was completely exhausted, collapsing on the bed, unable to speak through the convulsions wracking my body.

Marina continued her taunting without pause.

But with her words, the rage in my heart gradually subsided, leaving only an empty void.

I was left with nothing—broken, defeated, hollow. What purpose remained?

"Why aren't you screaming anymore?! Isabella! Say something! Weren't you the most arrogant? Didn't you call yourself the Queen of Sicily? Why are you mute now?!"

Marina was confused. My sudden calm had robbed her of the satisfaction she expected.

Angrily, she tried to reignite my fury.

"Why won't you answer, you worthless addict?! Weren't you just throwing things at me? Now you're playing dead for whom to see?"

Marina suddenly approached me and, in a swift movement, pulled out a small knife. Before I could react, she turned it upon herself, cutting several bloody gashes across her own cheek.

She immediately jumped back, covering her face and screaming.

"Isabella! You're insane! You tried to cut my face with a knife!"

I froze, completely bewildered by what was happening.

"I didn't—"

"You are still trying to deny it!" Marina covered her bleeding cheek, with her expression agonized. "I just came to visit you, and you tried to disfigure me?!"

"I was only being kind and checking on you!"

At that moment, footsteps outside the door heard her cries and immediately quickened.

Silvio pushed open the door, and seeing the blood on Marina's face, immediately glared at me furiously.

Lorenzo, who entered after him, also froze: "Marina?! This vicious woman dared to hurt you?!"

Watching them circle lovingly around Marina, I curled my lips into a painful laugh.

"Isabella! You're insane! Kneel and apologize to Marina immediately!"

Lorenzo was provoked by my laughter. He rushed forward, grabbed my arm, and dragged me from the bed to the floor, regardless of my injuries.

"I want you to grovel before Marina this instant!"

Silvio now supported Marina as he walked over, grabbed a bottle of red wine from the table, and unhesitatingly poured it over my face.

The alcohol seeped into the wounds on my face, causing such pain that my vision darkened.

"Kneel!" he said coldly.

I collapsed on the cold stone floor, the burning on my face and the withdrawal pain in my right arm intertwining until my consciousness blurred.

Seeing I wouldn't speak, Silvio bent down, grabbed my hair, and forced me to look up at them.

"Can't you understand human language?! Kneel to my woman immediately!"

They humiliated me with the most merciless methods until I was drenched in cold sweat, lying helplessly on the floor, struggling even to breathe. Only then did the torture finally end.

I don't know if it was a hallucination, but at one moment, I thought I glimpsed a flash of reluctance and hesitation in Lorenzo's eyes.

He was probably afraid I might die.

But that no longer mattered.

By now, whatever I had done in the past had received its due punishment.

Now, I just wanted to escape from them, to escape this hell.

When I woke again, the room had been neatly arranged, and my wounds were freshly bandaged.

The evening sun streamed through the window, warm as spring, yet I felt only confusion, as if everything before had been just an absurd nightmare.

I thought this might be my chance to escape, but Lorenzo soon returned.

He carried a package containing an exquisite statue of the Madonna.

"You're finally awake. Try this."

He placed a set of silver cutlery and a string of family prayer beads on the bedside table.

His demeanor had softened considerably, his tone carrying a hint of regret.

"Why must you be so stubborn and suffer like this?"

As he spoke, he picked up the prayer beads, intending to put them on me.

"If you just behave yourself, I'll take good care of you in the future."

I jerked my hand away, my stomach churning, feeling instinctive revulsion at the sight of him.

"Don't touch me."

Lorenzo's patience seemed exhausted by my refusal. He angrily slammed the items on the table.

"Isabella, I go to the trouble of finding holy relics for you, and you still can't show any gratitude?!"

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to calm down. When I spoke again, my voice revealed no emotion.

"Lorenzo, let's make a deal. I'm willing to sign a lifetime exclusion agreement and give all my remaining territory to you or Marina. I have only one request: let me leave."

I offered my freedom as the final bargain.

Lorenzo was taken aback by this attitude; he hadn't expected me to propose such an "exchange." After a long moment, he shook his head.

"Isabella, your current state isn't just to reassure her, but because you owe Marina a debt."

"I owe her? What do I owe her?!"

I asked in confusion. Lorenzo's lips curled in mockery, saying I truly had a convenient memory.

He said that the first smuggling route I discovered—the arms channel that changed my fate—was a path Marina had developed through countless sleepless nights.

It was I who had stolen it through despicable means, leading to my subsequent prosperity.

"So your current situation is just returning what rightfully belongs to her! Stop pretending to be innocent—I was almost fooled by you again!"

I paused slightly, then recalled that past incident, a bitter smile appearing on my face.

I finally understood the source of their bone-deep hatred toward me.

So in their eyes, I had been a thief from the beginning.

The smuggling opportunity back then was indeed public information—I was just faster and more willing to take risks.

But explaining this now was completely meaningless. For a ruined person, all achievements and mistakes lost their value for debate.

Seeing I no longer argued, Lorenzo gave a cold laugh.

"So, Isabella, you have no right to complain! All of this is your karma!"

I fell completely silent. Lorenzo also lost interest in conversing with me and turned to leave the room.

I stared blankly at his figure for a long while, then buried my face in my hands without making a sound.

Life afterwards became a day-to-day "treatment" process.

Different priests would come every day to guide me in using those religious artifacts.

Lorenzo, seemingly to maintain his "good husband" fa?ade, provided me with only the most expensive items.

I appeared wooden and compliant, speaking less and less.

After more than half a month, they finally relaxed their surveillance of me.

I used an absolutely accurate arms deal tip to bribe a young shepherd from the kitchen.

At four in the morning, fighting through the aching in both arms, I hid in a massive grain cart and left that prison amid the bumpy journey.

Finally, at a small church at the foot of the mountain, I looked back at the lit building, my eyes as calm as still water.

Since you all wished for me to disappear, so be it.

At that moment, Marina was at a grand family gathering, raising her glass to announce to all family members that she had thoroughly defeated me.

Lorenzo stood beside her, his smile radiant.

"I would give anything for you," he gazed at Marina's profile, his eyes filled with adoration.

"I know. We can finally be together now," Marina responded tenderly, and was about to clink glasses with him when hurried footsteps shattered the warmth.

A black-clothed messenger rushed into the hall, heading straight for Lorenzo.

He whispered a few words in his ear.

Monastery. Isabella.

Lorenzo's face grew increasingly grim.

He suddenly pushed Marina away: "What did you say?!"

"Bad news, Mr. Lorenzo! Isabella, she—she's disappeared!"