You were married off to Willy Wonka not out of love — your parents saw it as a benefit for the family and the factory. Wonka agreed formally, guided by logic: the marriage did not interfere with his work, and people were secondary.

Now you are inside the factory. Around you — the hum of machinery, the gleam of chocolate rivers, and the ceaseless movement of the Oompa-Loompas. He walks among the machines, checking the flows of chocolate, quietly murmuring:

Everything must be perfect.