Rain fell steadily onto the grand glass roof of the billionaire’s manor, nestled just outside London. Inside, Alexander Fairchild stood by the fireplace, sipping black tea and gazing into the flames. Silence was his usual companion, even in this vast house. Success brought wealth, not peace.
A sharp knock echoed through the hall. Alexander frowned. He expected no one. His staff had the day off; visitors were rare. Setting his cup aside, he walked to the heavy oak door and opened it.
A woman stood there, soaked through, holding a girl no older than two. Their clothes were threadbare, her eyes hollow with exhaustion. The child clung to her jumper, silent and wide-eyed.
«Sorry to disturb you, sir,» the woman said, her voice trembling. «But… I haven’t eaten in two days. I’ll clean your home – just for a plate of food for me and my daughter.» Alexander froze. His heart stopped – not from pity, but shock. «Eleanor?» he whispered.
The woman looked up. Her lips parted in disbelief. «Alex?»
Time folded in on itself. Seven years ago, she’d vanished. Without warning. Without goodbye. Simply vanished. Alexander stepped back, stunned. The last time he’d seen Eleanor Sutton, she wore a red summer dress, barefoot in his garden, laughing as if the world held no pain.
Now… she was dressed in rags. His chest tightened. «Where have you been?»
«I didn’t come for a reunion,» she said, voice breaking. «I just need food. Please. I’ll leave straightaway.» He looked at the child. Blonde curls. Blue eyes. Just like her mother’s. His voice cracked. «Is she… mine?»
Eleanor didn’t answer. She only looked away. Alexander moved aside. «Come in.»
Inside the manor, warmth enveloped them. Eleanor stood awkwardly on the polished stone floor, dripping rainwater, while Alex signalled for the housekeeper to bring food. «You still have staff?» she asked softly. «Of course. I have everything,» Alexander replied, not hiding the edge in his tone. «Except answers.»
The child picked up a bowl of strawberries from the table, looking at it shyly. «Ta,» she murmured. He smiled weakly. «What’s her name?»
«Lily,» whispered Eleanor.
The name hit him like a punch. Lily was the name they’d once chosen for a future daughter. When things were good. Before everything fell apart. Alexander sat slowly. «Start talking. Why did you leave?»
Eleanor hesitated. Then she sat opposite him, holding Lily protectively. «I found out I was pregnant the same week your company went public,» she said. «You were working twenty hours a day, barely sleeping. I didn’t want to be a burden.»
«That was my choice to make,» Alexander said brusquely.
«I know,» she whispered, wiping her eyes. «But then… they found cancer.» Alexander’s heart sank.
«Stage two. The doctors weren’t sure I’d make it. I couldn’t let you choose between your business and a dying girlfriend. I left. Gave birth alone. Had the chemo alone. And I survived.»
He was speechless. Anger and grief churned inside him. «You didn’t trust me enough to let me help?» he asked finally. Eleanor’s eyes filled. «I didn’t trust myself to survive.»
Lily tugged her mother’s sleeve. «Mummy, tired.»
Alexander knelt before her. «Want to rest in a warm bed?»
The girl nodded. He turned to Eleanor. «You’re not leaving tonight. I’ll prep the guest room.» «I can’t stay here,» she said quickly. «You can. And you will,» he stated firmly. «You’re not anyone. You’re my daughter’s mother.» She froze. «So you believe she’s yours?» Alexander stood. «Don’t need tests. I see it. She’s mine.»
That night, after Lily slept upstairs, Alexander stood on the balcony watching the storm-lit sky. Eleanor joined him, wrapped in a robe a maid had provided. «I never meant to wreck your life,» she said.
«You didn’t,» he replied. «You just erased yourself from it.» Silence stretched between them.
«I’m not here to beg anything,» Eleanor said. «I was desperate.»
Alexander turned to her. «You were the only woman I loved. And you left without letting me fight for you.» Tears tracked down her face. «I still love you,» she whispered. «Even if you hate me.» He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked towards the window where Lily slept, safe and warm. Finally, he said: «Stay. At least until we work out what comes next.»
Sun broke through the grey clouds the next morning, spilling soft gold light over Alexander’s estate. For the first time in years, it didn’t feel hollow. Downstairs, Alexander stood by the Aga – an odd sight in his own home – scrambling eggs. The smell of butter and toast filled the kitchen. He heard soft steps. Eleanor stood in the doorway, holding Lily’s little hand. The girl wore clean pyjamas now, her hair neatly brushed into curls. «You cook now?» Eleanor asked, a faint smile touching her lips.
«Trying,» Alexander replied, handing a plate to Lily. «For her.» Lily.» Lily scrambled onto a chair and began eating as if she hadn’t tasted proper food in weeks. «She likes you,» Eleanor said softly, perched on the edge of the counter.
Alexander looked at her. «Easy to please someone who doesn’t know you.»
A strange, quiet rhythm settled over the following days. Eleanor spoke little, still unsure if this was real or temporary. Alexander watched her intently – every movement, every glance at Lily – trying to reclaim lost time. But not everyone was pleased.
One afternoon, as Alexander returned from a meeting, his assistant, Charlotte, waited at the door, arms crossed. «You have a woman and child living here now?» she asked.
«Yes. That’s Eleanor and her daughter.»
«Your daughter?» He nodded. Charlotte hesitated. «You’re not very discreet. The board are making enquiries.»
«Let them,» Alexander said coldly. «I owe no explanations when it comes to my family.» The word «family» tasted strange in his mouth – but felt right.
That evening, Eleanor sat on the terrace, watching Lily chase butterflies across the lawn. Alexander joined her with two cups of tea. «You always liked twilight,» he said. «It was the only time the world seemed peaceful.» He took a sip. «Why not come to me after the cancer went away?»
She looked away. «Because I didn’t think I belonged in your world anymore. You’d become… untouchable. Famous. Powerful.» He leaned towards her. «I was alone.» She didn’t respond. «You could have come back,» he said again.
«I was afraid you wouldn’t forgive me.»
Alexander got up and walked a few paces, hands in pockets. «And now?» Eleanor swallowed. «I still don’t know if you can.» She turned to him. «I don’t want vengeance, Eleanor. I want to understand what kind of man I need to be now – for her.»
She looked up, tears glistening. «She needs a father. Not a CEO.»
«Then that’s what I’ll be.»
The next day, while Alexander was on a call, Eleanor received a visitor. The doorbell rang. When she opened it stood
The rain fell steadily on the glass roof of the billionaire’s mansion just outside London.
Inside, Julian Hawthorne stood by the fireplace, sipping black coffee and watching the flames. He was accustomed to silence, an echo that followed him even in such a large house. Success had brought him wealth, but not peace. A loud knock echoed in the hall. Julian frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone. His staff had the day off, and visitors were rare. He set down his cup and walked to the front door, opening it.
There stood a woman, drenched to the bone, holding a little girl no older than two. Her clothes were worn thin, and her eyes were hollow with exhaustion. The girl clung to her jumper, quiet and curious. “Sorry to trouble you, sir,” the woman said, her voice trembling. “I haven’t eaten in two days. I’ll clean your house—just for a meal for me and my daughter.” Julian froze. His heart stopped—not from pity, but shock. “Amelia?” he whispered. The woman looked up. Her lips parted in disbelief. “Julian?”
Time folded in on itself. Seven years ago, she’d vanished without warning or farewell, simply erased from his life. Julian stepped back, stunned. The last time he saw Amelia Hart, she’d worn a red summer dress, barefoot in his garden, laughing as if the world held no pain. Now she stood in rags. His chest tightened. “Where did you go?” “I didn’t come for a reunion,” she said brokenly. “I just need food. Please. I’ll leave straightaway.” He glanced at the little girl. Blonde curls. Blue eyes. Her mother’s eyes. His voice cracked. “Is she… mine?” Amelia didn’t answer, just looked away. Julian moved aside. “Come in.”
Inside the mansion, warmth enveloped them. Amelia stood awkwardly on the polished marble floor, rainwater dripping, as Julian signaled for the chef to bring food. “Do you still have staff?” she whispered. “Of course. I’ve everything,” Julian replied, not hiding the edge in his tone. “Except answers.” The girl took a bowl of strawberries from the table and glanced at him shyly. “Thank you,” she murmured. He gave a faint smile. “What’s her name?” “Lucy,” breathed Amelia. The name hit him like a punch to the gut. Lucy—the name they’d once chosen for a future daughter, back when things were good. Before it all fell apart. Julian sat slowly. “Start talking. Why did you leave?”
Amelia hesitated, then sat opposite him, shielding Lucy. “I found out I was pregnant the week your company went public,” she said. “You were working 20-hour days, barely sleeping. I didn’t want to burden you.” “That was my choice,” Julian said sharply. “I know,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “But then… I was diagnosed with cancer.” Julian’s heart dropped. “Stage two. The doctors couldn’t promise I’d survive. I didn’t want you choosing between your business and a dying girlfriend. I left. I gave birth alone. Had chemo alone. And I made it.” He was speechless. Fury and grief churned inside him. Finally he asked, “Didn’t you trust me to stand beside you?” Amelia’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t trust myself to survive.”
Lucy tugged her mother’s sleeve. “Mummy, I’m sleepy.” Julian knelt before her. “Want to rest in a warm bed?” The girl nodded. He turned to Amelia. “You’re staying tonight. I’ll prepare the guest room.” “I can’t stay here,” she said quickly. “Yes you can. And you will,” he said firmly. “You’re not a stranger. You’re the mother of my child.” She froze. “So you believe she’s yours?” Julian stood. “I don’t need proof. I see it. She is mine.” That night, after Lucy fell asleep upstairs, Julian stood on the balcony watching the storm-lit sky. Amelia joined him, wrapped in a robe a maid had given her. “I never meant to wreck your life,” she said. “You didn’t,” he replied. “You just erased yourself from it.” Silence stretched between them. “I’m not here to beg,” said Amelia. “I was desperate.” Julian faced her. “You were the only woman I ever loved. And you left without letting me fight for you.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I still love you,” she whispered. “Even if you hate me now.” He didn’t reply, only looked toward the window where Lucy slept safe and warm. At last he said, “Stay. At least until we work out what comes next.” The next morning, sun broke through grey clouds, spilling soft gold light over Julian’s estate. For the first time in years, it didn’t feel empty. Downstairs, Julian stood at the hob—an unusual sight in his own home—scrambling eggs. The smell of buttered toast filled the kitchen. Soft footsteps padded behind him. Amelia stood in the doorway, holding Lucy’s small hand. The girl now wore clean pyjamas, her hair combed into neat curls. “You cook now?” Amelia asked with a faint smile. “I try,” Julian replied, sliding a plate to Lucy. “For her.”
Lucy clambered onto a chair and ate as if she hadn’t tasted real food in weeks. “She likes you,” Amelia said softly, leaning against the counter. Julian looked at her. “It’s easy to like someone.” Over the next days, they settled into a quiet, odd rhythm. Amelia spoke little, still unsure if this was real or temporary. Julian watched her closely—every movement, every glance at Lucy—as if relearning lost time. But not everyone was pleased. One afternoon, as Julian returned from a meeting, his assistant Eleanor waited at the door, arms crossed. “So now you’ve got a woman and child living here?” she asked. Julian sighed. “Yes. That’s Amelia and her daughter.” “Your daughter?” He nodded. Eleanor hesitated. “You’re not exactly subtle. The board is already asking questions.” “Let them,” Julian said coldly. “I owe no explanations when it’s my family.” The word “family” felt strange on his tongue—but also good.
That evening, Amelia sat in the garden watching Lucy chase butterflies across the lawn. Julian joined her with two mugs of tea. “You always loved twilight,” he said. “The only time the world felt quiet.” He took a sip. “Why didn’t you come back after the cancer went into remission?” She turned away. “Because I didn’t belong in your world anymore. You’d become… untouchable. Famous. Powerful.” He leaned toward her. “I was lonely.” She didn’t respond. “You could have come back,” he repeated. “I was afraid you wouldn’t forgive me.” Julian rose and paced, hands in pockets. “What about now?” Amelia swallowed. “I still don’t know if you can.”
He turned to her. “I don’t want revenge, Amelia. I want to understand what kind of man I need to be now—for her.” She looked up, eyes swimming. “She needs a father, not a CEO.” “Then that’s what I’ll be.” The next day, while Julian was on a call, Amelia had a visitor. The doorbell chimed, and when she opened it, an elegantly dressed woman stood there—Julian’s mother, Diana Hawthorne. She swept Amelia with an icy gaze. “So. You’ve returned.” “Hello, Diana,” Amelia said cautiously. “You’ve nerve showing up like this. Julian spiralled for years after you vanished.” Amelia stepped aside. “Come in please.” Diana swept in as if she owned the place. “You’re not planning to stay, are you?” she asked curtly. “I hadn’t planned it,” Amelia admitted. “Think having a child makes you family again?” “We never stopped being family. Lucy is Julian’s daughter.” Diana laughed scornfully. “And what if this is a scheme for his fortune?” Amelia’s voice hardened. “Then you never knew me.”
Just then Julian walked in, sensing the tension. “What’s happening?” he asked, eyes narrowed. “Just a family visit,” his mother said sweetly. “Welcoming Amelia home.” Julian glanced at Amelia; she shook her head silently. Later that night, Amelia packed her bag. Julian found her in the hallway zipping her suitcase. “What are you doing?” “I can
Rain continued its gentle rhythm against the glass conservatory roof of the billionaire’s estate nestled near Bath. Inside, Julian Arlington stood by the hearth, sipping black coffee and gazing into the flames. He was accustomed to the silence—it clung to him even in such a grand house. Success had brought wealth, but not peace. A sharp knock echoed in the hall. Julian frowned. He expected no one. His staff had the day off, and visitors were rare. He set down his cup and walked to the front door, opening it. There stood a woman, soaked to the bone, holding a girl no more than two. Her clothes were threadbare, her eyes hollow with exhaustion. The child clung to her jumper, quiet and curious. «Sorry to trouble you, sir,» the woman said, her voice trembling. «But… I haven’t eaten in two days. I’ll clean your house—just for a meal for me and my daughter.» Julian froze. His heart stalled—not from pity, but shock. «Emily?» he whispered. The woman looked up. Her lips parted in disbelief. «Julian?» Time folded in on itself. Seven years ago, she’d vanished. Without warning. Without a goodbye. Simply vanished from his life. Julian stepped back, stunned. The last time he’d seen Emily Hart, she wore a red summer dress, barefoot in his garden, laughing as though the world held no pain. And now… she wore rags. His chest tightened. «Where have you been?» «I didn’t come for a reunion,» she said, her voice breaking. «I just need food. Please. I’ll leave straight after.» He looked at the little girl. Blonde curls. Blue eyes. Her mother’s eyes. His voice caught. «Is she… mine?» Emily didn’t answer. She just looked away. Julian stepped aside. «Come in.» Inside the mansion, warmth enveloped them. Emily stood awkwardly on the polished marble floor, dripping rainwater, as Julian signalled for the cook to bring food. «You still have staff?» she asked quietly. «Of course. I have everything,» Julian replied, not hiding the edge in his tone. «Except answers.» The girl took a bowl of strawberries from the table and looked at him shyly. «Thank you,» she murmured. He managed a brief smile. «What’s her name?» «Lily,» Emily whispered. The name hit him like a punch to the gut. Lily was the name they’d once chosen for a future daughter. When everything was good. Before it all fell apart. Julian sat down slowly. «Start talking. Why did you leave?» Emily hesitated. Then she sat across from him, pulling Lily protectively close. «I found out I was pregnant the same week your company went public,» she said. «You worked 20-hour days, barely slept. I didn’t want to be a burden.» «That was my choice,» Julian said curtly. «I know,» she whispered, dabbing her eyes. «But then… I was diagnosed.» Julian’s heart plummeted. «Stage two. The doctors didn’t know if I’d survive. I didn’t want you choosing between the company and a dying girlfriend. I left. I had her alone. Went through chemo alone. And I survived.» He was speechless. Anger and sorrow swirled inside him. «You didn’t trust me enough to let me help?» he finally asked. Emily’s eyes filled with tears. «I didn’t even trust myself to survive.» Lily tugged her mother’s sleeve. «Mummy, I’m sleepy.» Julian knelt before her. «Want to rest in a warm bed?» The girl nodded. He turned to Emily. «You’re not leaving tonight. I’ll prepare the guest room.» «I can’t stay here,» she said quickly. «You can. And you will,» he stated firmly. «You’re not just anyone. You’re the mother of my daughter.» She froze. «You believe she’s yours?» Julian stood. «I don’t need proof. I see it. She’s mine.» That night, after Lily slept upstairs, Julian stood on the terrace, watching the storm-lit sky. Emily joined him, wrapped in a robe a maid had given her. «I never meant to wreck your life,» she said. «You didn’t,» he answered. «You just erased yourself from it.» Silence stretched between them. «I’m not here to beg for anything,» Emily said. «I was desperate.» Julian turned to her. «You were the only woman I ever loved. And you left without letting me fight for you.» Tears tracked down her face. «I still love you,» she whispered. «Even if you hate me.» He didn’t reply. Instead, he looked towards the window where Lily slept, safe and warm. Then he finally spoke: «Stay. At least until we figure out what comes next.» Sun broke through the grey clouds the next morning, spilling soft golden light over Julian’s estate. For the first time in years, it didn’t feel empty. Downstairs, Julian stood by the AGA—an unusual sight in his own kitchen—scrambling eggs. The smell of butter and toast filled the room. He heard soft footsteps behind him. Emily stood in the doorway, holding Lily’s small hand. The girl now wore clean pyjamas, her hair brushed into curls. «You cook now?» Emily asked with a faint smile. «Trying to,» Julian replied, handing a plate to Lily. «For her.» Lily climbed onto a chair and began eating as if she hadn’t tasted proper food for weeks. «She likes you,» Emily said softly, perching on the edge of the worktop. Julian looked at her. «It’s easy to like her.» The days that followed settled into a strange, quiet rhythm. Emily spoke little, still uncertain if this was real or temporary. Julian watched her intently—every movement, every glance at Lily—as if reclaiming lost time. But not everyone was pleased. One afternoon, returning from a meeting, Julian found his assistant, Charlotte, waiting by the door, arms crossed. «So. You have a woman and child living here now?» she asked. Julian sighed. «Yes. That’s Emily and her daughter.» «Your daughter?» He nodded. Charlotte hesitated. «You’re not being discreet. The board is asking questions.» «Let them ask,» Julian said coldly. «I owe them no explanations about my family.» The word «family» felt foreign on his tongue—but it felt right. That evening, Emily sat on the patio, watching Lily chase butterflies across the lawn. Julian joined her with two cups of tea. «You always loved twilight,» he said. «Only time the world felt quiet.» He took a sip. «Why didn’t you come to me after the cancer went into remission?» She looked away. «Because I didn’t think I belonged in your world anymore. You’d become… untouchable. Famous. Powerful.» He leaned towards her. «I was lonely.» She didn’t reply. «You could have come back,» he repeated. «I was afraid you wouldn’t forgive me.» Julian stood and walked a few paces, hands in pockets. «And now?» Emily swallowed. «I still don’t know if you can.» He turned to her. «I don’t want revenge, Emily. I want to understand what kind of man I need to be now—for her.» She looked up, tears brimming. «She needs a father. Not a CEO.» «Then that’s what I’ll be.» The next day, while Julian was on a call, Emily had a visitor. The bell rang, and she opened it to find an impeccably dressed woman—Julian’s mother, Diana Arlington. She looked Emily up and down with cool disdain. «So. You’re back.» «Hello, Diana,» Emily said cautiously. «You have a nerve turning up like this. Julian spiralled for years after you vanished.» Emily stepped aside. «Please come in.» Diana swept in as if she owned the place. «You’re not planning to stay, are you?» she asked curtly. «I wasn’t planning to,» Emily admitted. «Having a child doesn’t suddenly make you family again.» «I never stopped being family. Lily is Julian’s daughter.» Diana laughed scornfully. «Or this is your scheme for his fortune?» Emily’s voice hardened. «Then you never knew me at all.» Julian returned then, sensing the tension. «What’s going on?» he asked, eyes narrowed. «Just a family visit,» his mother said sweetly. «Welcoming
The wedding preparations began quietly the next week, selecting flowers for the barn conversion venue and choosing simple silver bands that felt honest.
Lila wore a tiny daisy chain crown as she beamed beside her mother, whose hands Julian held tightly during their vows under the trees, and Emily whispered them back without hesitation.
Years later, the echo of laughter in that grand house no longer felt strange, Julian found his greatest wealth not in accounts ledgers in Oxford but in muddy wellies by the back door and Lila’s drawings pinned to his study wall.