Angelus Ultionis

Prologue

When I was a young girl, I often dreamed of the day I would become a mother. It wasn't just any dream-it was filled with hopes of being the best mother my future children could ever have. I imagined myself nurturing them with love, patience, and wisdom, giving them everything they needed to grow up happy and strong.

Alongside this dream, I also pictured myself as a devoted wife. I didn't care if my future husband wasn't wealthy or successful by society's standards. What mattered to me was the life we would build together-simple, but full of love and joy. I imagined us sharing quiet moments, raising our children, and finding happiness in the little things. To me, a fulfilling life wasn't about riches or status; it was about the deep connections I would create with my family, being there for them, and living each day with purpose and love.

I grew up on a farm, surrounded by love and the gentle rhythm of rural life. My parents, along with my two older siblings, Sally and Michael, created a warm and caring environment for me. Being the youngest, I was their little treasure-Sally and Michael adored me, watching over me and ensuring I was looked after every single day. Their affection made me feel safe and cherished, like I was the center of their world.

Our family farm, a beautiful apple orchard, was owned and operated by my father. He and my mother were inseparable partners in both love and work. My father's love for my mother was clear to anyone who saw them together. Over the years, he grew into a better version of himself because of her influence, and his devotion to her was unwavering. He was a hard worker, but he always had a soft spot for my mother, making sure she felt appreciated every step of the way.

Before marrying my father, my mother had been a teacher. After their marriage, she dedicated her time to helping him run the farm, but she never completely gave up her passion for teaching. In our community, there were children who couldn't attend school because they had to help their families from a young age. My mother took it upon herself to teach these children in her spare time. She patiently taught them the basics-how to read, write, and solve simple math problems-skills that would help them contribute to their families and find opportunities beyond the farm life. Her kindness and dedication gave these children hope and a chance for a better future, no matter how small the steps.

But everything changed when I was 10 years old. My mother passed away unexpectedly, and it felt like the heart of our family was torn apart. My brother Michael was 20 at the time, trying to enlist in the military, while my sister Sally, at 16 was determined to earn a full scholarship to a well-known university. We were all busy with our own hopes and dreams, never realizing that our mother was secretly battling an illness. She kept her pain hidden from everyone, choosing to protect us from the truth rather than burden us with her suffering.

Her sudden death left us shattered, but no one was more heartbroken than my father. The man who had once been our source of strength and joy, who had loved our mother so deeply, became a shell of the person we once knew. He fell into a spiral of grief, turning to alcohol to numb the pain. The once gentle and happy father we adored became distant, angry, and consumed by his sorrow. It was as if he forgot he still had us-his children-who needed him more than ever.

Michael tried to step up and manage the apple farm, but it was a losing battle. My father, drowning in his grief, rejected every good offer that came our way to save the farm. His judgment clouded by loss, he sabotaged every opportunity. Then, one fateful day, he made a decision that would change our lives forever. He sold the farm-the place that held so many memories of our mother-and left us with nothing but a briefcase of money. Shortly after, in his despair, he took his own life by jumping off a cliff, unable to bear the heartbreak any longer.

In the aftermath, we were left orphaned, holding onto the remnants of a life that had slipped through our fingers. We were taken in by our maternal grandfather, William Vanderbilt a man we barely knew. He lived in the city, far from the farm life we had grown up in. Despite the distance and the unfamiliarity, he opened his home and heart to us, offering us shelter, guidance, and a path to rebuild our lives. He showed us that even though we had lost so much, life still goes on. With his help, we slowly found our footing again, learning to carry on despite the loss of our parents, and discovering strength in each other as we began a new chapter of our lives.