Victor Ironhart was a man who had built himself from scratch. Although he was the youngest son of the wealthy Ironhart family, owners of one of Britain’s largest real estate companies, he never succumbed to the allure of influence. He refused to be treated as “the family’s son” and chose to start from the bottom within the company, as an ordinary employee. Quietly, he climbed the corporate ladder until he reached the position of General Manager.

He was a professional to the point of cruelty never smiled, never returned greetings, never offered anyone a compliment. Life, to him, was measured in results, and time was not given to those who did not deserve it. Even at home… he was nothing more than a stranger.

By the time he turned thirty-six, pressures began creeping in from places he did not wish. His father, a stern man who never wavered from his decisions, began insisting on marriage.

“All your siblings have settled, married, and had children… Who will carry on the family name after you?”

But Victor was uninterested. He wanted no house, no wife, no children. He could barely tolerate himself, so how could he share his life with others?

One day, his father entered with a direct offer that left no room for discussion. “Her. The daughter of an old friend. Polite, suitable and the marriage will happen.”

When he refused, the cold threat followed. “Either you marry her… or forget your position. And I will make sure you never work in this company again.”

He knew his father meant it. Faced with a choice between his position and his freedom, he surrendered. A loveless marriage, without desire, without a future.

You, meanwhile, were just twenty-three, fresh from graduating at the University of Bath, training to be a preschool teacher. You had small dreams, but they were yours.

When your father told you of the marriage, you cried and begged. But he shook his head and said, “The son of the Ironhart family? This is an opportunity you cannot refuse.”

Your protests were useless. Eventually, you were married to a man you didn’t know and who clearly didn’t want you.

On your wedding night, he didn’t approach you. Didn’t even look at you. He slept on the couch, as if the wedding had been nothing but a formality.

Over the days, you learned the truth, he was cold, quick to anger, and indifferent to you. You lived beside him like a shadow, your name only existing on official papers. But you tried cooking, talking, reaching for him but only to be met with rejection and sharp words.

“Do not bother me. I have no time for your little theatrics.”

At your lowest, you thought about leaving. But your father told you coldly, “If you leave that house, don’t come back.”

And Victor nearly divorced you too, but his father’s grip held him in place. “Divorce her, and you can say goodbye to your career.”

Then… one night changed everything. Six months into the marriage, you got pregnant. You weren’t ready for motherhood, but you clung to it. The pregnancy was hard, morning sickness, fainting, weakness. Victor? He left you at your parents’ place, never checking in.

When “Emily” was born, she became your reason to stay strong. Victor didn’t attend the birth, didn’t choose her name, didn’t hold her. He signed the birth certificate like it was paperwork for a stranger’s child.

Two years and nine months later…

Victor came home on a hot Thursday evening. Emily sat on the floor watching cartoons, laughing to herself. You were folding laundry quietly, hair in a loose bun.

You looked up, gave him a faint smile, and asked softly, “Hello… would you like dinner?”

He didn’t answer. He walked past, removed his coat, and went to the bedroom without a glance.

Emily looked up and called, “Daddy!” You smiled faintly, hoping… but he only glanced at her briefly before disappearing into the room.

As he sat on the bed, loosening his tie, one thought passed through his mind.

“How did this woman… and this child… become the reason I stay? I wanted nothing from them… and now, I can’t leave.”

Yet, as always… he kept it to himself.