His Unexpected Forever

Chapter One: Let Her Go Nathaniel’s POV: After my brothers and I had our usual hangout, a little tradition we’d held onto since childhood,the energy in the room shifted. The laughter faded, and a thick silence took over, so heavy I could almost feel it pressing against my skin. I knew that silence. I knew what it meant. Especially with my eldest brother , I could already see where the conversation was headed, even before he opened his mouth. “Nathaniel,” Daniel began, his voice low but firm, “you know how hard our mother worked to get us here. To give us this life. And yet, after all these years, your wife still hasn’t conceived. Don’t you think it might be time to consider… letting her go?” I swallowed hard, willing myself to stay calm. “Just give me time,” I said quietly. “I promise I’ll figure something out. But I can’t leave Betty. I love her.” “Love is not enough here. We need an heir to our empire—and he has to come from you,” Daniel said, his tone calm but final, like a judge delivering a sentence. The words echoed, slow and heavy, like they were dragging chains behind them. He glanced at his wristwatch, then stood. “Either way, time’s up. I have to go home. I’ll see you some other time.” He walked toward the door without waiting for a response. Just before stepping out, he paused, turned slightly, and gave me a small wave—half-hearted, like an afterthought—then disappeared. The room felt colder after he left. Too quiet. The silence pressed in from the walls, from the floor, from the space he used to fill. I sank into the nearest chair. What do I tell Betty? How do I even start? She’s barely holding it together as it is. And now… this? I stayed there in that chair for what felt like forever. The dim glow from the overhead lights cast long shadows across the walls, but I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I just… sat. Letting Daniel’s words echo again and again until they fused with my thoughts. Let her go. That phrase clawed at my chest, cruel and sharp. It wasn’t just a suggestion. It was a command dressed as advice—calmly delivered, perfectly timed, and cold in all the right ways. Daniel always knew how to strike when I was vulnerable, always knew how to sound like he cared when all he wanted was results. And Michael… God. I hadn’t even looked at him properly throughout that exchange. But I could feel his silence. He didn’t defend me. He didn’t say a word. Maybe because he agreed. Or maybe because he didn’t know what to say. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, pressing my hands together like a prayer I hadn’t earned. My wedding ring dug into the skin of my palm. What the hell was I supposed to do? The door creaked open again behind me. For a split second, my heart surged with hope that maybe Daniel had returned to soften the blow, maybe even offer another way out. But it wasn’t him. It was the club’s private steward, Harrison. “Mr. Nathaniel,” he said gently. “Would you like anything else before I close up the lounge for the evening?” I turned halfway, just enough to catch his pale, aged face and the worry dancing behind his eyes. I forced a smile. “No, Harrison. I’ll lock up. Thanks.” He nodded and left just as quietly as he came. No questions. No judgments. God bless him for that. I finally stood and crossed the lounge slowly, grabbing my coat off the back of the leather couch. Our private club had always been a sanctuary—an escape built with every luxury money could buy. Golden accents lined the ceiling. A full wall-length fireplace flickered quietly on the far end. There was a vintage snooker table to one side, and our personal bar stocked with spirits from all over the world. None of it mattered tonight. I walked past it all like a stranger. As I stepped out into the underground parking lot, the chilled night air kissed my face. My driver, Collins, was already waiting beside the Rolls. “Back home, sir?” he asked. I hesitated. I didn’t want to go home. Not yet. Not to that big house filled with marble floors and glass walls—where Betty would be waiting in silence. Where she’d greet me with a weak smile and a tired hug, then slip away into the room like she always did lately. I loved her. God, I loved her more than I could ever say. But I didn’t know how to hold her anymore without feeling like I was failing her. Like I was lying every time I said “soon” or “it’ll happen.” I cleared my throat, you can go home from here Collins “I’ll be driving through town. I need a minute.” Collins nodded and opened the door. The ride through the city was quiet, just the hum of tires and streetlights stretching like veins across the road. I stared out the window, thinking of the first time I saw Betty—on the red carpet of a charity gala in Chelsea. She’d worn a green silk gown that clung to her like rain on glass. Back then, all I knew was that I wanted her. I needed her. We got married fast. Too fast, probably. But I never regretted it. Until now. No—no, I didn’t regret her. I regretted what this had done to us. To me. Six years. Six years of fertility treatments. Of calendars, and syringes, and blood tests. Of hope rising like a tide, only to crash and retreat the next month. Six years of watching her cry in the bathroom and pretend she hadn’t. And now I had Daniel breathing down my neck like a deadline I couldn’t negotiate. I pinched the bridge of my nose. The problem wasn’t just the heir. It was what came with it—control of our empire, security for the legacy our mother built from nothing, respect in the industry. Investors already whispered that I was “the emotional one.” That Daniel was the true head. An heir would change that. But an heir would cost me Betty. And that wasn’t a price I could pay.