"I've failed you both. I've failed you..."

"It's my fault for not raising you properly, for letting you turn out like this. I'm old, please don't hold it against me..."

Dante watched, his heart twisting. His grandfather, a man he'd always known as proud and unyielding, someone who never bent a knee to anyone, had just… bowed.

He'd always been strict, demanding perfection from Dante's father and from Dante himself.

But now? He was kneeling before his son's memorial, begging for forgiveness from the departed, admitting he'd failed to raise their son right.

Dante's throat tightened. He had to explain. He needed to tell his grandfather, tell his parents, that he wasn't out partying. It was a business dinner.

He wanted to tell his grandfather to stop apologizing, that he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Grandfather... please, listen. It was a business dinner. It wasn't just Isabella, Mr. Lopez was there too—"

"Silence!"

The words seemed to hit a nerve. The old man boomed, "You wretched fool! How dare you mention the Lopez family to your parents' memory! They are your father's murderers! You're spitting on your father's grave…"

Dante opened his mouth to retort, but a phrase snagged his attention.

He looked up, stunned, at his grandfather, frozen in place before the memorial.

"Grandfather... what do you mean, murderers? That's impossible..."

His grandfather didn't respond. He lowered his head and walked out of the family hall. At the door, he paused, looking back.

"You will kneel here. Properly. Until I say otherwise. Reflect on your mistakes. I will investigate the car accident. We will talk again when I've uncovered everything."

Dante bowed his head, silent.

His grandfather had to be mistaken. The Lopez family? No way.

Uncle Lopez and his parents had always been thick as thieves.

He and Isabella had grown up together, their families practically joined at the hip. It just couldn't be.

Wait. The butler mentioned Celine had visited today. Could it be her…?

Had she remembered everything and come back for revenge on Isabella?

No, that’s not it. Dante shook his head, banishing the thought. He couldn't believe that of Celine. She wasn’t like that.

But how could it be the Lopez family? And Isabella had only just returned from abroad.

It's fine, Dante told himself. His grandfather was just mistaken. Once the investigation was done, everything would be clear.

Still, if his grandfather wasn't sure, he wouldn't be this consumed by grief and rage.

So, Dante spent two days in a whirlwind of conflict and confusion. On the third day, a stack of documents and evidence, laid out in stark black and white, awaited him.

The incident had happened ages ago, making some evidence tricky to track down.

But time, as they say, is a funny thing.

It was precisely because so many years had passed – years during which the Lopez family's influence had become a double-edged sword pointing back at them – that certain evidence, kept by their own allies as leverage, had now fallen into his grandfather's hands, for a whole new purpose.

Dante looked at his grandfather and the pile of documents. The man who usually exuded defiance now looked like a lost child.

"Why..."

"Dante, learn this lesson now. The final lesson your parents taught you is that in the world of business, there are no friends, only interests."

His grandfather saw the bewilderment on his face and shook his head. Dante had been too sheltered, too naive. In so many ways, he was even less perceptive than Celine had been.

"But Isabella, Grandfather, Isabella is innocent. She didn't know about any of this…"

Dante still remembered how devastated Isabella had been a decade ago when his parents died. She'd cried with him, stayed by his side, comforted him. It was precisely because of this that he'd never been able to let her go all these years, even though he no longer loved her…

"Innocent?" The old man looked at his grandson – confused, lost, clinging to a ridiculous obsession like a drowning man to driftwood. "Look at this. Isabella might not have known about your parents' dealings back then, but she was never innocent."

With that, he shoved another file folder in front of Dante and shook his head. "From start to finish, the only fool has been you."

Then he stood up and walked away.

And so, Dante knelt before his parents' memorial, flipping through the stack of documents and photographs – all of Isabella and Archer Reynolds.

There were pictures from their three years in the States: holding hands, embracing, kissing, even entering and leaving various private venues together.

There were also photos from this month, after they'd returned: in cars, at Isabella's doorstep, at Archer's company, at his home – everywhere.

Dante turned the pages one by one, his eyes growing redder, his entire world crumbling.

Why?

Why!

He could accept that Isabella no longer loved him. But why did she have to deceive him?

If she didn't love him anymore, fine. But why lie? They had trusted each other so completely.

He had lost Celine, and now he couldn't even hold onto Isabella…

A wave of failure and humiliation washed over him, along with an unbearable heartache.

The Lopez family… how ruthless. They had cost him his parents, and now they had cost him Celine – the first love he had once been so proud of, the deep love he now regretted losing too late…