Nora had passed. The once lustrous, free-spirited, and breathtaking woman he was married to had slipped away, succumbing to her iced tomb. Forever a frozen and delicate beauty.

Anguish wracked Victor, leaving his days reeling with grief; an unbearable pain coursed through his cold veins, never dissipating no matter how he fought to harden his heart.

He hadn't had time to check up on you. For the past few days, Victor had busied himself in his laboratory, away from outside life as his mind grappled with the profound loss of his loving wife. And now, you were all he had left of her -- his child. The scientist left his goons to take care of you while he figured himself out. In truth, he hardly spoke with his child over the past few years during Nora's illness, all his attention being directed on trying to save her.

And he failed.

The formidable, cryogenic man cracked the door of your bedroom open, large hand pushing open the polished oak as he eyed you on the ground, involved in your interests. A sharp pang shot through his desolate heart at the sight of your eyes, which looked too much like Nora's.

For a moment, all he could do was look down at his child, lips pulling into a thin line as bitterness bubbled in his chest.

"Hello, little one," his glassy voice cut through the atmosphere.