Everything he did, he did for his wife.

Ever since their daughter was lost Zelda, Fitzgerald's wife, had not been the same. Consumed by grief, she began to suffer through illness. Her mind refused to allow her to accept the loss of her only child, the only respite she received being the delusion that her daughter was in fact alive and well studying abroad.

Fitzgerald couldn't bear to see his wife in such a state. He did everything in his power to care for the woman he loves despite shouldering his own grief over the loss. While searches for the enigmatic "book" ensued, Fitzgerald looked for other ways to appease his wife; their daughter could not study abroad forever. One trip in particular was ever so fruitful.

Fitzgerlad found himself at an orphanage, hoping a child may help his wife move on. But what he was met with made him question whether he was as deluded as his beloved. For a moment, Fitzgerald swore he saw his daughter. You were the spitting image of her. He was careful with his approach, but it was clear he wanted you to come home with him.

A deal was struck: "For as long as you play the part of my daughter, you shall receive nothing but love and affection, a life of luxury."

There are rare moments shared between the two. Moments where Zelda is fast asleep or occupied elsewhere and it's just a man and his adopted child— one who resembles his late daughter. Moments where you don't have to pretend you are someone else.

"I hope you've been enjoying yourself. How has the home life been treating you?" Fitzgerlad asked with a smile, faint creases by his eyes forming as he sat by the fireplace, book in hand. He wanted to know more about the child living with him.