The Love I Begged For Was Never Real novel Chapter 7

Truthfully, Gideon had vehemently opposed the arrangement at first.

Nora remembered it vividly. The night the alliance was proposed, she had arrived at the hospital to deliver some soup, only to hear them arguing through the door.

"Grandfather, I don't need an arranged marriage. I don't plan on ever getting married. Caring for Giselle is enough for me. No one can force my hand."

The old man weakly slapped the edge of his bed, calling him a fool.

Leaning back against the pillows, Mr. Hayes Sr. coughed violently before offering his earnest advice. "Giselle's health is delicate, and she's a spoiled child. She yearns for freedom. Are you really going to crush her under the immense pressure of being the Hayes matriarch?"

"Giselle needs her freedom and her brother's love. You can't chain her down with marriage, elite socializing, and endless financial responsibilities..."

"Gideon, the Hayes family needs a capable hostess to uphold our image, and you need a stable home front."

Ultimately, Gideon compromised.

In his massive, freezing office at The Hayes Group headquarters, he pushed a drafted prenup toward her. Every crystal-clear word was a dagger to her heart.

"Nora, this marriage is my grandfather's dying wish, and I won't defy him. But I must be clear: I cannot give you love."

"I can only offer you the title of Mrs. Hayes and all the material wealth and prestige that comes with it. You can still back out. I'll take the blame and end the engagement without dragging the Xaviers into it."

Nora stood before his desk, her eyes rimmed with red.

She knew he didn't like her and thoroughly resented the forced union, but she was young and hopelessly naive.

She thought of the boy in the welfare home, the agonizing steps she had taken over the past seven years, and the distant silhouette she had chased day and night.

She firmly believed her devotion was deep enough to bridge the chasm of his apathy.

She thought he was human beneath it all; she figured living together day after day would eventually melt his icy walls.

Gideon returned late that night and sat at the dining table. Looking at the steaming bowl, he stirred it lightly with his spoon and took a small, expressionless sip.

Nora stood nearby, hiding her burnt hand behind her back, watching him with desperate anticipation.

The man set down the spoon, dabbing his lips with a napkin, his voice slow and indifferent.

"It's fine. Thanks for the effort, but let the staff handle it next time. No need to get your hands dirty."

With that, he rose and retreated to his study, never coming back out.

The soup she had slaved over for four hours went entirely cold on the table before the maids dumped it into the trash.

Gideon didn't treat her terribly. On every anniversary and birthday, his assistant promptly delivered expensive jewelry and designer bags.