Ethan, a twenty-three-year-old socialite, was heading home in the early hours of the morning. He'd had a brilliant time at the club, dancing the night away with a beauty named Chloe, who secretly dreamed of marrying him. Ethan just laughed at her hints; he had no desire to change a single thing about his life. And why should he?
His wealthy father bankrolled his lifestyle, bailed him out of trouble, and sponsored every whim. Under those conditions, becoming independent seemed downright foolish. Of course, Ethan held a prestigious position in his father's company, but he almost never showed up.
He intended to head straight to bed, feeling incredibly drained. But his plans were interrupted by his father. Andrew sat in an armchair with a cup of coffee, deep in thought. His son's appearance broke his concentration.
"Where have you been?"
"Just the club. Why are you still up?"
"Waiting for you. I want to know when you're going to grow up."
"Dad, come on, don't start. I just want to sleep..."
"You need to get married," Andrew declared. "Your mother and I were married for thirty years. We were happy. If she were alive today, she'd be standing right here beside me." Andrew paused and asked, "Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No."
"I see. In that case, I'll find a bride for you myself."
"Oh, for God's sake, Dad! Let's skip the movie cliches. I'll get married eventually, have kids, let you play with the grandkids while I become the happy family man... but right now, I'm going to bed, okay?"
"No. Drink some coffee, take a shower, and change. You have thirty minutes. Then we're going to the site."
"D-a-ad..."
"I said thirty minutes!" Andrew rose and left the room. Ethan grimaced, let out a groan, and collapsed into the chair. An hour later, he was out the door with his father.
The day dragged on unbearably. Ethan, feeling his head begin to throb, asked his father how much longer they'd be. Andrew smirked.
"In a hurry to get back to the club?"
Ethan didn't answer, though he caught the sarcasm. Club? All he wanted was a shower and a bed.
As they pulled up to the house, Andrew noticed a disabled man standing on the corner with his hand out. He asked the driver to pull over. Ethan didn't hear what they talked about; he didn't wait for his father, but hurried upstairs and collapsed onto his bed, unable to move a muscle.
***
Several days passed. One evening, Andrew called his son in and spoke in a tone that brokered no argument.
"I've found a bride for you."
"Really?" Ethan said, unpleasantly surprised. "And who is she?"
"It's a surprise. You'll see this evening. I've invited her and her father to dinner. Her name is Irene, and she's your future."
Ethan kept quiet, deciding to see what else his father had cooked up. But when he went to greet the guests, he froze in shock: standing before him was the same homeless man from the street and a young woman in a shapeless gray dress, without a trace of makeup on her face.
He was about to tell the staff to show the beggars out, but his father beat him to it, courteously welcoming the man and his daughter before introducing them to Ethan.
The man's name was Victor, and the girl was Irene. She was about twenty and might have been called pretty if not for the drab outfit and her sun-bleached hair pulled back into a long, plain braid. Andrew smiled at his son's bewilderment and asked the guests to come to the table.
"Dad, what are you doing?" Ethan hissed under his breath. "Is this some kind of sick joke? Do you actually want me to marry this plain Jane? Or are you just trying to get under my skin?"
"I want you to marry her," his father nodded. "And you will."
"Why?! To make me a laughingstock?"
"You'll understand that later. And you'll thank me for it. Now, let's join our guests. It's rude to keep them waiting."
"I'm not going! I'm not participating in this circus. You go ahead; I'm heading out for the night."
"No. You aren't. Because if you disobey me, you're out of this house with nothing but the clothes on your back. I won't let you take a single thing. You'll be no different from that old man and his daughter. Do you understand? Now, move!"
Ethan realized the time for joking was over. It hit him that his father would actually do it. He couldn't imagine life without money, so he clenched his teeth and nodded.
"I'll be there in a minute. I just need a breath of air to calm down."
"Good boy." Andrew clapped his son on the shoulder and went back to his strange guests.
Ethan thought for a moment, dialed Chloe's number and invited her over, then headed to the dining room. Victor declined any alcohol, which surprised Ethan; he glanced at the girl sitting modestly—she was only drinking water, too.
Eventually, Victor began to tell his story, and Ethan found himself listening despite himself. He knew nothing of a life like this.
Years ago, Victor was just a small-town guy who thought he'd live in his quiet corner of the world forever. That would have been the case if not for one meeting. A young doctor had come to their town for her residency—beautiful, cheerful, and carefree. She was bored in the middle of nowhere until she noticed Victor, a strong young woodsman. He was ten years older than her, single, and looking for a wife. He thought there was no one better than Anna.
Their romance was brief. Anna got pregnant and went back to the city to tell her parents. She never returned to Victor. He went to the city several times looking for her, but her wealthy parents refused to let him see her. On his last visit, a neighbor told him Anna had been married off to someone abroad.
"And the baby was sent to an orphanage. Pete the driver told me. He drove the little girl there himself," the old woman whispered. Victor was stunned.
"Sent to an orphanage? When?"
"I don't know that, dear. You'll have to ask Pete."
It took Victor two long years to get his daughter back. He even entered into a sham marriage in exchange for his small country house, which went to the woman after the divorce. But Victor regretted nothing. He took his daughter and moved to the city, where he found work and rented a small place.
They lived poorly, of course, but it was enough for a modest life. Irene was a bright student and desperate to go to college. She knew she had to rely on a scholarship, so she studied tirelessly. She got in, and her father was incredibly proud of his clever daughter.
In her freshman year, tragedy struck. There was an accident at the construction site where Victor worked, and he saved a man's life at the cost of his own health. Everyone was sure Victor wouldn't make it, but he was a fighter. However, his leg had to be amputated, followed by a long hospital stay.
During that time, Irene was evicted from their apartment. Crying, she told her father. Victor managed to get her a spot in a dorm, but he ended up on the street.
He had lived like that for four years now, staying in shelters or under the open sky. But he never complained; his only dream was that his daughter would never want for anything.
The small disability pension he received went straight to Irene's debit card so she could survive. She had no idea her father was living off hand-outs. He told her he lived in a small town just outside the city and lied about living with a woman who looked after him. He asked her not to visit, claiming he hadn't told his "new wife" about his daughter yet.
He'd meet Irene occasionally in a park. She'd tell him about her grades; he'd lie about his life. He hoped that once she graduated, she'd understand and forgive the lie. Victor didn't tell the whole story at the table, just the bare outlines, but even that was enough for a flicker of respect to spark in Ethan's soul for this tall, thin man. Andrew, however, knew everything.
He had vetted Victor from their first meeting, making him tell the whole truth. That's when the thought occurred to him: Irene could be the making of his spoiled son. She was the one who could be a kind, faithful companion for life.
The quiet conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a guest unexpected by everyone except Ethan. It was Chloe. She fluttered into the room, trailing the scent of expensive perfume, and after a charming greeting, stared in shock at Victor and Irene. It was bizarre to see such people at the same table as Ethan and his father. Breaking the silence, she asked:
"Ethan, honey, are these the people you wanted to introduce me to as your fiancé?"
Andrew raised an eyebrow and looked at his son. "Is that so? Is this true?"
"Yes," Ethan muttered, embarrassed. "I just didn't have a chance to tell you earlier."
"Ah, I see." Andrew smiled and turned to Chloe. "And so? Are you prepared to marry my son just like that?"
"Yes! We love each other."
"Fine. I didn't think you were the type for 'love in a cottage,' but if there's true love between you..."
"Dad," Ethan started, "don't..."
But Chloe interrupted him, looking at Andrew with confusion, unsure if he was joking. "What do you mean 'in a cottage'? Why a cottage?"
"It's just that we're bankrupt. As of today, Ethan is penniless. We're drowning in debt, the company is being liquidated, and even this house—where we're having our final dinner—is going under the hammer. But you love my son, and for love, there are no obstacles. Right, son?"
"E-than..." Chloe's eyes went wide. "But how...?" She stood up abruptly and headed for the door, snapping at Ethan: "Don't bother seeing me out."
"I hope you realize, son, that I was joking," Andrew said quietly. "I just wanted to show you your fiancé's true colors."
Ethan looked at Irene and suddenly saw a warm sympathy in her eyes. Then she smiled at him—openly and simply, like a friend.
***
Over the next few days, Ethan was surprised by the silence of his phone. Usually, people texted him nonsense, invited him out, or asked for advice. Now, total radio silence.
He spent all his time with his father, helping with work. But one evening, unable to wait any longer, he went to his favorite club, only to find he wasn't welcome.
"I don't get it," he asked his old friend, Tyler. "What's going on?"
"Chloe told everyone you're broke. Everyone scattered like rats from a sinking ship."
"What an idiot!"
"Look, Ethan, it's none of my business, but Sarah said that when Chloe found out you were bankrupt, she had an abortion... Did you know she was pregnant with your child?"
Ethan jumped up, then sat right back down, burying his head in his hands. He downed his drink in one gulp and walked out, ignoring the crowd parting before him.
A month later, Ethan married Irene. His father gave them a massive apartment of their own, helped Victor find manageable work, and bought him a small ground-floor condo in a new high-rise.
Ethan threw himself into work, trying not to get too close to Irene, whom he felt he didn't love at all. She waited for him, made his breakfast and dinner, and tried to stay out of his way, understanding how hard it was for him to accept a forced marriage.
Three years passed. One day, Andrew called Ethan and asked him to come over.
"Where are you? At home?"
"No, son. I'm at the hospital."
"What? What happened?!" Ethan rushed to his father and found him in a private room.
"Dad!"
"Don't shout," his father asked softly. "I had my last attack this morning. This is it. Your mother is waiting for me... I've been terminally ill for a long time. I lived on injections. I kept it hidden, just like Victor. He's the one who showed me how to truly raise a child. I'm dying at peace. Irene is a wonderful woman; take care of her. She won't betray you; she'll be there in good times and bad. Since you got married, you've made me so proud. For years, I worried that if I died, you'd have no foundation. Now I know you can handle anything. The papers are all signed... the house, the company, the accounts... it's all yours. I only wish I could have seen my grandkids... but I'm at peace about you. I'm so glad I got to say goodbye."
"Dad, why? Why didn't you tell me? We could have gone abroad... saved you..." Ethan sobbed, pressing his face to his father's limp hand.
"I love you, son, and I didn't want you to suffer... goodbye."
"Dad!"
Ethan remembered little of the funeral. The house was full of strangers, condolences, flowers, and black ribbons. It was a blur. Only Irene, constantly and quietly by his side, reminded him he wasn't alone.
Ethan stayed in mourning for a long time, burying himself in work. He was in no hurry to go home and avoided his father's empty mansion, fearing the silence. A year later, Victor passed away as well.
In that time, Ethan had become a man. He lost his recklessness, stopped being lazy, and became serious and responsible. His life with Irene was steady, without much passion and, he thought, without love. He was just used to her being there. That stability gave him confidence in the future.
However, things soon shifted. A new employee named Lauren came to work for him. She was stunning, she knew it, and she knew how to use it. She spent months trying to seduce Ethan, and one day, he gave in. He didn't regret it at the time. Lauren brought the spark he thought he'd been missing.
One day, Ethan came home to find Irene sitting at the kitchen table. She was crying quietly, and in front of her were photos of him with Lauren.
"So," he said defiantly, "are you going to scream at me?"
"No." She stood up and looked him in the eye. "I don't do scenes. Be happy, Ethan. Goodbye."
He watched her go and shrugged. After all the years they'd lived together, he felt nothing for her. Even in bed, he had just been doing his duty, though he couldn't help but notice his wife always tried to please him first. And now she was gone, and he didn't even think to stop her.
Irene moved into the condo her father had left her. Lauren moved in with Ethan, and he immediately forgot what peace felt like. Lauren—loud, talkative, and demanding—didn't care about anyone else. She quickly picked fights with the neighbors and was rude to other residents over parking spots or anything else she could find. Then she'd berate Ethan, demanding they move into his father's mansion.
"E-than," she'd whine, "if you don't want to live there, just give the house to me. I've always dreamed of a big estate."
Two months went by. One morning, Ethan's lawyer called to say someone was trying to hostly take over their assets.
"We need to freeze the accounts immediately, or we'll lose everything."
"But how?! We have deals in progress; the penalties alone are astronomical. No one will give me credit; I'm already leveraged to the hilt. What do we do?"
"I don't know, boss. If I had anything to sell, I would. But my old summer cottage won't cover a fraction of what we need."
Ethan thought of his father's house. He hated the idea of selling it, but there was no other choice. He went to Irene; he needed her permission to sell. She met him as calmly as ever. She listened, then shook her head.
"No, Ethan. Andrew wouldn't approve. It's not right."
"But what am I supposed to do?! I suppose you're happy I'm going bankrupt... getting your revenge?"
Irene looked at him, then went to the closet and pulled out a shoebox. She set it in front of him.
"What is this?"
"Open it and see."
In the box were stacks of high-denomination bills, several bank cards, and a folded piece of paper. Ethan opened it and saw PIN codes and the balances of the accounts. He was stunned; excluding the cash, there was a fortune here.
"Where did this come from?"
"Most of it is from your father. The rest is from mine. Shortly before he died, Andrew left the cards with me so that in a moment of crisis, you'd have unexpected backup. He called it your insurance. He didn't give it to you because he wanted you to run the business carefully, thinking you had no safety net. And my dad... it turns out the man he saved was a wealthy American. He had been visiting the site when the accident happened. Years later, he found my father and thanked him with a very large sum of money. Dad never told me. When I asked him why, he said he didn't want the money to ruin me. He was sure that if I'd known about those millions, I wouldn't have studied so hard and might have ended up like Chloe. Remember her?"
"Why didn't you keep it for yourself? I didn't know anything about it. You could have moved abroad and lived like a queen."
"See? You still think I'm just like her. But I'm not. This is your money; take it. I have everything I need. And how much do I really need anyway?"
"Thank you, Irene," Ethan reached out to kiss her, but she put her hand up, drawing back.
"Go, Ethan. You should get moving."
Ethan left, but as he got to his car, he turned back. Irene was standing at the window, watching him. Only then did he notice how much she'd changed—and not for the better. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes; she clearly wasn't well.
That evening, after settling his affairs, Ethan called Irene to ask about her health.
"I'm fine," she said with a faint laugh. "Don't worry."
He called several more times, but she was clearly tired of talking, so he stopped bothering her. Thanks to Irene, the business was saved, and the new funds even allowed for expansion. Still, Ethan felt a crushing weight of guilt.
He was thoroughly sick of Lauren; her loud beauty and volatile temper were exhausting, but he couldn't seem to get rid of her. Then, one day, returning home early, he heard her voice.
"I'm telling you, I can't get the new passwords. He's hiding everything. He even changed the safe code. Look, I already gave you the internal info, why didn't you use it? Mark, I don't care if you were too slow... I only took this job to feed you information. You're a total moron."
Ethan walked in, took the phone from her hand, and said to the voice on the other end:
"Don't listen to her. Mark isn't the moron, I am. A stupid, stubborn moron... I'd even say an idiot."
Lauren gasped, but Ethan already had her by the arm and was dialing his head of security. It took a few days to root out the fraud. Three employees were fired.
Once the dust settled, Ethan went to Irene's place, but she wasn't home. She didn't answer her phone. Finally, a neighbor who recognized him spoke up.
"An ambulance came for her a week ago. They took your wife away."
Ethan didn't wait to hear more. He dropped the flowers at the door and raced to the hospital. He ran through every department, but Irene was nowhere to be found.
"Look," a nurse said, "an Irene died here a couple of days ago. That's right. A young woman, cancer took her fast. Such a tragedy."
Ethan collapsed onto the grimy hospital steps and sobbed, heedless of the people walking by. Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He answered it and jumped to his feet when he heard Irene's voice.
"Ethan? You called? Is something wrong?"
"Irene! Irene, honey! You're alive! You're alive! I almost lost my mind! Where are you?"
"In the maternity ward."
"What?"
"In the maternity ward. I'm about to go into labor."
"How? Are you... are you married?"
"Actually, yes... we never got divorced."
"And the baby?"
"Ours. I was pregnant when I left."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"What for? You had a new life, the business, the drama... you didn't have time for us."
"No! No!" Ethan cried out. "I understand now. Please, forgive me! I love you more than life itself! You and our son! It's a boy, right?"
"Two."
"Irene!"
"Yes, Ethan. We're having twin boys."
Ethan sank back onto the steps, weeping again. But this time, it was from pure happiness.
***
Five years passed. Ethan—the best husband in the world and a wonderful father—stood at his father's grave on the anniversary of his death and spoke softly.
"Thank you, Dad. Thank you for everything. But most of all, thank you for my happiness named Irene."
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