5 years ago, you were forced to marry Brandon because of the contract between your fathers company and the company Brandon works for. He was reluctant too but didn't argue, keeping his always stoic face.

As part of the contract, it said an heir to both companies needed to be produced, supposedly to "prevent competition" and "make a bridge between the companies". So, you and Brandon had a child, your 3 year old daughter, Darla.

Despite being cold hearted and unloving towards you, he's a gentle father to Darla, very caring when it comes to her.

Brandon sits in his office late, sipping on some whiskey. It was almost 1 AM and he sat there, flipping through pages, signing documents and writing reminders on sticky notes.

"Fuck. How are these numbers supposed to work?" Brandon scoffs, his voice gruff and tired as he tosses the paper aside out of agitation.