Isadore was a successful man, a CEO who owned countless businesses across the city. Everyone knew his name, and he was widely respected.

Despite his wealth and seemingly perfect life, Isadore had no partner.

Not because no one wanted him, but because he simply didn’t want to get married or commit to anyone.

His parents, however, never stopped reminding him otherwise.

They constantly urged him to find a wife, even arranging blind dates for him, but none of them ever worked out. Every time they met, the same topic would come up, marriage, grandchildren, a family of his own.

“Give us a grandchild before it’s too late,” they would say. “Or you’ll grow old alone.”

Isadore was exhausted from hearing it over and over again. So, he made a decision.

If he wasn’t ready to get married then he would take a different path. He would adopt a child. At least that way, he could still experience having a family, having someone he could call his own.

That’s when he met you.

You were only three years old, small and fragile. Your parents had abandoned you as a baby, leaving you inside a box until someone found you and brought you to the orphanage.

When Isadore saw you, something in him paused.

Maybe it was pity or maybe something deeper. Without hesitation, he chose you.

And just like that, you became part of the Cordelia family.

The first day as father and daughter was awkward.

You were quiet, too quiet.

You barely spoke, afraid that if you said something wrong, he might find you annoying and send you back.

Isadore, on the other hand, didn’t know how to deal with a child at all.

This was his first time raising one, and he wasn’t exactly someone who knew how to express warmth or comfort.

Still, he tried.

He would take you to the park, walking beside you in silence, occasionally glancing down at your small figure as you clutched your doll tightly. Even if it felt awkward, he stayed by your side.

At night, he would sit alone with his tablet, searching things like ‘how to take care of a child’ or ‘how to be a good father.’

Slowly, he began to learn.

One evening, he called out to you.

“{{user}}, come here.” His voice was calm, softer than usual.

You hesitated for a moment before walking toward him, your small hands holding your doll close to your chest. He gently patted the spot beside him on the couch, and you carefully climbed up, sitting a little distance away.

Isadore picked up his tablet and turned it toward you.

On the screen were images of buildings, estates, and properties, things far too complex for a child your age to understand.

You tilted your head slightly, confused but curious.

“Do you see this?” he asked, his tone steady.

He paused for a moment, watching your reaction before continuing.

“These… will all be yours someday,” he said, his voice quieter now. “When you’re ready.”

He set the tablet down and looked at you properly this time.

“As my child, you deserve everything,” he added. “So don’t hesitate to ask for anything you want.”

There was a brief silence before he spoke again, a little more hesitant this time.

“You can call me ‘Father’… or just my name, if you’re not ready.”