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Sabato 18 e Domenica 19 luglio 2026 – 14:00 a 11:00 PUNTO D’INCONTRO: ore 14:00 Presso “Bar Cardinal’s Coffee”- Mugnano del Cardinale (AV) Parcheggio gratuito non custodito vicino area tende 9 Contributo: € 45 Tesserati € 50 Soci (per copertura spese organizzative) ___ Per confermare la registrazione è necessario effettuare il bonifico dell’acconto di € 20,00 sul C/C: IrpiniAvventura Associazione Sportiva Dilettantistica IBAN: IT37 G03 0690 9606 1000 0018 1788 Causale: “contributo attività 18/19 luglio 2026” ___ L’acconto verrà rimborsato esclusivamente in caso di annullamento dell’attività da parte dell’associazione. 📊 Posti disponibili: 30 su 30 Prenota Descrizione attività ESCURSIONE AL TRAMONTO E NOTTE IN TENDA Parco Regionale del Partenio – Mugnano del Cardinale (AV) Un’esperienza speciale immersi nella natura, dedicata agli amanti della montagna, alle famiglie e ai gruppi di amici: passeggiata al tramonto, notte in tenda in area privata, alba e momenti di convivialità. L’evento è aperto a famiglie, coppie, gruppi di amici e a tutti gli amanti della montagna che desiderano trascorrere un weekend all’insegna della natura, del relax e della convivialità. La quota di partecipazione comprende: • Escursione con accompagnatore qualificato • Aperitivo di benvenuto con prodotti tipici locali (salumi e formaggi) • Grigliata serale con carne alla brace • Caciocavallo impiccato • Contorni vari • Acqua, bibite e vino durante la cena • Colazione del mattino SERVIZI INCLUSI • Area privata riservata esclusivamente ai partecipanti • Postazioni tende dedicate • Servizi igienici (bagno) Ogni partecipante dovrà portare con sé l’attrezzatura necessaria per il pernottamento, tra cui: • Tenda • Sacco a pelo • Materassino da campeggio • Torcia frontale – lampada Prenotazione obbligatoria entro il 14 luglio 2026. Le tende possono essere noleggiate online o presso gli store Decathlon – link: https://rent.decathlon.it/it Dati Tecnici TIPO ESCURSIONE: E (escursionistico). 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐳𝐳𝐚: 7km terra e rocce. 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨: 200m (complessivo). 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐚̀: L’escursione è adatta anche a principianti, famiglie e persone con un minimo di allenamento fisico. Il percorso si sviluppa su sentieri di montagna semplici, senza particolari difficoltà tecniche o passaggi impegnativi. Si consiglia comunque di partecipare con scarpe da trekking e di essere in condizioni fisiche compatibili con una camminata in ambiente montano. Bambini: dai 12 anni accompagnati da un adulto, abituati a camminare su sentieri di montagna. Cani: ammessi al guinzaglio. Info e Consigli Scarpe da trekking obbligatorie! Tenda personale obbligatoria Torcia frontale obbligatoria Sacco a pelo/coperta Abbigliamento a strati (felpa/antipioggia/antivento) bastoncini telescopici Cappello Ricambio almeno 1,5L di acqua farmaci personali (antistaminici / farmaci per allergie) Istruttore qualificato riconosciuto CSEN (Ente nazionale di promozione sportiva) Le attività associative potranno essere svolte solamente diventando soci Irpiniavventura. AVVISI IMPORTANTI: In caso di maltempo, l’attività sarà rinviata. La Guida si riserva la possibilità di non accettare ospiti che non abbiano l’equipaggiamento adeguato richiesto e di annullare l’evento se non si raggiunge un numero minimo di partecipanti ritenuto adeguato.

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I watched my own funeral from the back row, and my husband didn't shed a single tear. But when she walked in—the woman who poisoned me—he wept like a child. "Sienna," Adrian Cross choked out, pulling her into his arms in front of my casket. "I'm so glad you came. Today's been unbearable." I stood three feet away, invisible, dead, and somehow still capable of feeling my heart shatter all over again. Three days ago, I was alive. Three days ago, I drank the tea Sienna handed me with that sweet, trembling smile. "You look exhausted, Nora. Let me take care of you." I trusted her. God help me, I actually thanked her. Now I'm a ghost watching my widower comfort my murderer over my dead body. "She brought this on herself," I heard Adrian whisper into Sienna's hair. "If Nora hadn't been so jealous, so cold, none of this stress would've happened. Her heart just... gave out." My heart gave out. That's the official story. The one the coroner signed off on after Adrian made a single phone call and a very generous donation to the hospital's new wing. I drifted closer, screaming words no one could hear. It wasn't my heart, you fool. It was the digitalis she crushed into my chamomile. Check the cup. CHECK THE CUP. But there was no cup anymore. Sienna had washed it herself, weeping prettily, insisting she needed to "keep busy" to cope with her grief. The grief of the woman who killed me. Adrian guided her to the front pew, his hand pressed against the small of her back the way it used to rest against mine—back when he still pretended to love me. "I don't know how I'll survive this," Sienna murmured, dabbing her dry eyes. "You won't be alone," Adrian promised. "I'll take care of you. I should have protected you from her a long time ago." I let out a hollow laugh that echoed through a room that couldn't hear it. Protected her. From me. The wife who gave up her career, her family, and three years of her life for a man who only ever saw me as a placeholder for the woman he really wanted. I'd married Adrian Cross knowing he didn't love me. I told myself it didn't matter. I told myself I could earn it. I was wrong about so many things. But here's the one thing I was finally, terribly right about: The card tucked inside the white roses on my casket—the roses he sent—wasn't addressed to me. I floated forward and read it. "For Sienna. Stay strong. This will all be over soon. — A." This will all be over soon. The words burned into whatever was left of my soul. He'd written my funeral flowers' card to her. He'd planned for this. For an end. A cold certainty settled over me, sharper than death itself. My husband didn't just fail to save me. My husband knew.

The night my daughter Lily stopped breathing, my husband was in a penthouse suite with his secretary. I know this because when I called him—screaming, begging, my hands still shaking from performing CPR on our three-year-old—his secretary answered. "Damien's in the shower," she said, her voice lazy and satisfied. "Can I take a message?" My daughter was dying. And she was asking if she could take a message. Lily had been born with a congenital heart defect. She'd had two surgeries before her second birthday. Every day with her was borrowed time, and I treasured every single second. But Damien Sterling, my husband—CEO of Sterling Industries, heir to a billion-dollar empire—treated our daughter like an inconvenience. No. Worse. He treated her like she didn't exist. He never visited her in the hospital. Never held her hand after surgery. Never once read her a bedtime story. The only time he acknowledged Lily was when he accused me of "using a sick child to trap him." Trap him. As if I wanted to be trapped in this nightmare of a marriage. Our union was an arrangement—my family's pharmaceutical company, Voss Pharmaceuticals, merged with Sterling Industries, and I was the collateral. A contract bride. Damien made it clear on our wedding night that he would never love me. "Don't touch me," he'd said, still in his tuxedo, pouring himself a drink. "This marriage is business. You are business. Nothing more." I accepted it. I accepted all of it. Because I was twenty-two and stupid and believed that if I was patient enough, kind enough, good enough, he would eventually see me. He never did. But when Lily came along—an accident he blamed me for—I thought maybe she would soften him. Maybe holding his own child would crack through that wall of ice. Instead, he looked at our newborn daughter and said, "Get a DNA test. I want proof she's mine." She was. Of course she was. He was the only man I'd ever been with. But even after the test confirmed it, he never bonded with her. He never tried. And now she was gone. I sat in the hospital hallway, Lily's tiny body already growing cold in the room behind me, and I stared at my phone. Damien hadn't called back. Three hours later, he still hadn't called back. By dawn, I had signed every document the hospital required. Alone. I arranged the funeral. Alone. I picked out a white casket small enough to carry in my arms. Alone. When I finally returned to the Sterling mansion, I found Damien in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the Financial Times as if it were any other morning. He glanced up. "You look terrible." I stared at him. "Lily died last night." He set down his mug. Blinked. "What?" "Your daughter. She's dead." The silence that followed should have broken something in him. It should have shattered the world. Instead, he frowned—confused, almost annoyed—as if I'd told him about a stock that underperformed. "Why didn't you call me?" he asked. I laughed. It was the kind of laugh that comes out when your soul has finally cracked in half. "I did, Damien. Your secretary answered. She said you were in the shower." His jaw tightened. Not with grief. With embarrassment. And that was the moment I knew—with absolute, bone-deep certainty—that I was done. I walked past him, went upstairs, and began packing my bags. He followed me, leaning against the doorframe. "What are you doing?" "Leaving." "Don't be dramatic, Vivienne." I zipped my suitcase shut and turned to face him. "Our daughter is dead. You were sleeping with your secretary. And you're calling me dramatic?" For the first time in our marriage, Damien Sterling had nothing to say. But I did. "I want a divorce. And I want back everything you stole from me." His eyes narrowed. Because he knew exactly what I meant.