Beyond the Shadows of Control

Chapter 1

This is the story of Edward Fairchild and his struggle against Lord Goldwyn to fight for the custody of his son.
Edward Fairchild found himself facing a daunting dilemma:
If he divorced, he would lose his son.
If he stayed married, he'd lose himself.
During a trip, Edward inadvertently crossed Lord Goldwyn, who forced him into a marriage and fatherhood. Lord Goldwyn was domineering, making decisions about everything, from where Edward sat to the clothes he wore. Edward endured countless moments of being overshadowed by Goldwyn’s ruthless control, but eventually, the weight of it all became unbearable.
“I want a divorce,” Edward declared one evening, a nerve tugging at his vocal cords as he spoke those words, anticipating the storm.
Goldwyn turned, his icy glare piercing through the air. “Fine! Get a divorce! But if you do, you'll also lose your son.”
This is simply a tale of a man who desires to reclaim his life amidst conflict and authority.
In this world, our characters are intertwined—posturing, loving, and navigating challenges together.
Alaric Blackwood, with his traditional views on masculinity, slowly begins to change. Meanwhile, Isolde Whitfield grows in strength and resilience.
**Chapter 1: The Impasse**
It was a rain-soaked afternoon when Edward returned to the Hearthstone Manor, the air thick with unfrequented tensions. The lingering smell of brewing coffee wafted through the hall, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within him. Of all places, home should have been a refuge, but instead, it served as a constant reminder of his suffocating existence.
As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the overly cheerful Aunt Mabel, bustling about with a laundry basket in her arms. “Welcome home, Edward! I made your favorite stew. You know, to lift that heavy heart of yours.”
“Thanks, Mabel,” Edward forced a smile, but inside, his heart was heavy with the weight of an impending decision.
He glanced towards the living room where he could hear the laughter of his son, Young Marek, playing with his toys. The sound was bittersweet; it was a fleeting reminder of what he stood to lose. That joyful laughter belonged to him, but so did the suffocating grip of its origin.
“Supper will be ready soon,” Mabel called out, interrupting his thoughts. “You should join us. Everyone’s excited to see you.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Edward replied absently, moving towards the room.
But as he rounded the corner, his facade crumbled. There, sitting comfortably on the armchair, was Lord Goldwyn, his demeanor exuding entitlement.
“Well if it isn’t our dear Edward,” Goldwyn smirked, glancing up briefly from his phone, dismissing Edward’s presence like an afterthought. “I hope you were productive today. We have matters to discuss.”
Edward felt his heart race. “There’s nothing more to discuss, Goldwyn.”
Goldwyn’s eyes narrowed, the smile fading as he leaned forward. “If you think you can simply walk away, you’re mistaken. Your son needs stability—and your absence will upset that balance.”
“What about my happiness?” Edward shot back, his voice rising. “I can’t live under your thumb anymore!”
“Your happiness? Don’t be ridiculous. Marrying you was never about your happiness, Edward. It was about responsibility, and right now, you have a duty,” Goldwyn stood, towering above Edward with an imposing presence.
“Is it really a duty if I’m unhappy?” Edward questioned, feeling the heat of frustration build.
Goldwyn stepped closer, his icy demeanor unyielding. “A father doesn’t have the luxury of such feelings. Accept your role, or risk losing everything. Including your relationship with Marek.”
Edward clenched his fists, the threat resonating deep within him. How could he fight against that which bound him so tightly?
The aching realization began to settle in his chest as he stared into the abyss of Goldwyn's unreasoning eyes. He would have to choose: to stay subdued in a life that felt like a prison, or to take a stand, risking everything for the freedom he so desperately wanted.
This was the beginning of a battle far greater than mere custody. It was a fight for identity, for self-worth, and for love—both for his son and for the man he yearned to be.
And as thunder rumbled outside, Edward knew that the storm was only just beginning.
**To be continued...**

Chapter 2

Edward Fairchild nervously adjusted his hold on the little boy in his arms as he faced Sir Thomas Barrington in the quiet corner of The Snug Café.
“Given my situation, how likely is it that I would get custody of my child if I divorce?” Edward asked, eyebrows furrowed with concern.
Sir Thomas sighed, his expression laden with sympathy, “First, Duncan Frost is Isolde Whitfield's biological son. Despite your marriage to Isolde, Duncan shares a closer bond with her through blood.”
Edward clenched his long fingers, frustration boiling inside him. Duncan was not just Isolde's child; he was his son too—born of his own flesh and blood. But Isolde insisted that to avoid drawing attention or stigma for having a child from a man, Duncan could only be referred to as the child of another woman, with Edward as just the stepfather.
“Secondly,” Sir Thomas continued, “you have no documented income. Isolde, on the other hand, is the owner of Whitfield Mercantiles. Who do you think the court would favor in terms of providing for Duncan?”
“... I understand. I need to leave now.” Edward stood abruptly. He had already lingered for over five minutes, and if he stayed any longer, Isolde’s henchmen would definitely catch up with him. He had fought for these precious moments of freedom for half a month.
“Edward, you really can’t go on like this...” Julian Bright called out to him.
Edward kept walking, shaking his head in reply. The question of whether to continue this life had plagued him daily. He was a man of deep emotions; he had once loved Isolde passionately, but her overbearing nature wore him down.
She was too domineering, too patriarchal.
Each day was planned out by Isolde from the moment he opened his eyes. Every detail of his daily routine was laid out for him, even down to how much food he was allowed to consume.
He felt envious of infants sometimes; at least when they slept, they could kick and squirm freely. But at night, Isolde confined him like a pillow, entwining herself around him, stripping him of his ability to move. His longstanding habit of sneaking off to the bathroom in the middle of the night had been eradicated by her insistence that it was a ‘bad habit’ that needed to change.
He had tried to resist her control, pushing against her overwhelming authority since the very start. Unfortunately, his efforts were futile; Isolde was incredibly stubborn and had firmly grasped his weak points.
For instance, when he attempted to wake her up at night just to escape to the bathroom, she would roll over and simply tell him, “Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night is a bad habit; you have to fix that starting tonight.”
And when he had mentioned wanting a divorce, Isolde had replied, “That's fine, but you won’t get custody of Duncan. Once we divorce, I’m taking him abroad, and you won’t know where to find us. By the time Duncan is old enough, he won’t even remember you.”
In a fit of rage, he had smashed every single glass in their home. The fallout had left him wounded but not critically, yet he couldn’t stand for days afterward. Isolde had kept her silence but stayed by his side in the hospital, looking thinner than ever. Her presence made him question if he should have acted out that way. After all, Isolde clearly loved him.
When he finally returned home, he discovered that all the windows and cabinets had been replaced with unbreakable glass—even the mirrors had been upgraded to withstand impacts better than a bulletproof window.
As Edward stepped out, memories flooded back, yet the thought of returning to his life under Isolde's watch sent a heaviness through his feet. The little boy in his arms suddenly blinked awake, peeking at Edward's expression before quickly shutting his eyes again, but Edward caught him in the act.
“Were you pretending to be asleep to hear us?”
“No, I wasn't!” the boy replied, dragging out his words defensively.
Seeing Duncan's guilty expression confirmed that he had indeed overheard their conversation. Edward leaned in closer, whispering, “Tell Daddy, if I do end up divorcing your mom, who would you want to stay with?” Surely, the court would consider the child's feelings as well.
Duncan pouted, “Let's talk about it once you actually get divorced.”
“I’m going to get a divorce this time,” Edward declared with determination.
“Okay.”

Chapter 3

Duncan squirmed in Edward Fairchild's arms, trying to wriggle free to walk on his own. His little legs followed his father as they strolled away from The Snug Café. “Dad, you promised last time we would sneak out to have some fun. But instead of going to the amusement park, we ended up kneeling on the couch for half an hour and missed my favorite cartoon!”
At the mention of being punished, Edward's face flushed a mix of red and pale white, mortified by the memory.
“I just couldn’t get the better of him…” he muttered.
As they stepped outside the café, they spotted Young Marek, their driver, panting as he rushed over. Seeing Edward and Duncan safe brought a wave of relief across his face as he immediately pulled out his phone to call. Edward’s heart sank; it looked like this incident had reached Isolde.
Arriving home at The Hearthstone Manor, they found Isolde lounging on the living room sofa, her expression not too angry. Edward sighed in relief but couldn’t shake off the anxiety that crept in; after years of being managed by Isolde, it felt as if he had let her become a second father.
She waved to Duncan, “Where did you two run off to? I noticed you both vanished while the driver was busy paying!”
Duncan, ever the ungrateful one, tugged down on his little ears. “I fell asleep! I didn’t know anything!”
“And you?” Isolde turned the question to Edward.
“I just went to grab a coffee.”
“In five minutes flat.”
A surge of frustration bubbled up in Edward. “I get to finish my coffee in five minutes if I want to! Who says I can’t…?”
“Going out for coffee with a child who just got over a serious illness… Do you have any idea how chaotic it is outside? Sundays are especially packed; do you really think it’s safe to take him out?”
Isolde’s probing left Edward speechless. If it weren’t for his meeting with his lawyer, he wouldn’t have even thought of taking Duncan outside.
Noticing Edward’s head hanging low, Isolde stepped closer, gently patting his shoulder. “I know you're worried about Duncan feeling cooped up. If you want him to see something new, I can have some entertaining activities sent home for you both. You look worn out—let me take care of Duncan while you wash up. You’re drenched in sweat.” As she spoke, she affectionately pinched Edward’s cheek with a smile.
Taken aback momentarily by her affection, Edward instinctively nodded and headed upstairs. But just a step later, he snapped back to reality and turned around. “So, just because it’s chaotic and crowded, I can’t take my kid out? How is he supposed to adapt to the world?”
After a brief, frustrated sigh, Edward conceded, “Let’s get Duncan cleaned up first. We’ll talk when we’re in our room.”
He almost felt dazed from Isolde’s retorts; she always seemed to have him cornered.
“Now, hold on! We’ve discussed this before. The priority now is that you need to shower too. Fifteen minutes for you, then come down for some fruit. I have your favorites, grapes and pineapple!” Isolde's tone was lighthearted, happily nudging Edward toward the stairs.
Edward nodded, taking a couple of steps before hesitating, wanting to say something, but Isolde’s radiant smile left him speechless. With a resigned sigh, he ruffled his hair and trudged upstairs.
In the shower, Duncan joined him, splashing around with a rubber duck. Without looking up, he began to lecture, “Dad, every time my old man starts talking, you just get tongue-tied. That’s why our ranking in the house will always be less than his!”
“Well, your old man sometimes… has a point,” Edward replied, recognizing that lately, the world had indeed been a bit too chaotic for him to be taking Duncan out in the crowds.
“Why do you never have a solid argument?”
“I… just can’t seem to outtalk him…”
Duncan playfully kicked Edward's arm with his small foot, mimicking an expression of despair. “Can’t win an argument or a fight—guess our days of living the good life under leadership are over.”
Edward gently twisted his ear in playful reprimand. “I’ll have you know, I once was a leader. When I was in charge, your old man would bring me tea, wash my face, and if I was ever displeased, I wouldn’t spare a harsh word!”
“Really?”
“Really.” Edward felt a mix of truth in his words; it wasn’t a complete lie.
He had indeed bossed around Isolde, much like an oppressive landlord with a servant, though some of his tactics leaned toward the outrageous, owning their privilege in an emotional sense.
However, one wrong step had landed him in a firm grip—Isolde’s sharp claws barely concealed the façade of wealth, but truthfully, it felt stifling.
“There was a time when he was merely my assistant. With a casual gesture of my foot, he’d rush to put my shoes on.” Reflecting on the past made Edward feel an unexpected mix of nostalgia and regret.
Duncan bit the rubber duck’s beak, skepticism spilling over. “So why are you so scared of my old man now?”
“You learned this saying a few days ago: ‘Born in worry, die in comfort’? I’ve been pampered by him to the point where I’ve let myself go.” Just like Julian Bright used to mention, he could barely make a single buck these days; whenever he needed anything, he leaned on Isolde.
With a clenched jaw, Edward scolded himself for feeling intimidated—by Isolde, and the world he had been distanced from for too long. With Duncan's health recovering, he should have no fear of venturing out on his own; if he worked hard enough, he wouldn’t need to endure Isolde’s pressures any longer.
“Son,” Edward pulled Duncan closer, cradling his small head. “About that story regarding your old man fetching me tea? Promise you won’t spill it to him. We’ll have to deal with his moods for a while.” He couldn't dream of giving up his custody over Duncan. No matter how things ended with Isolde, he still had leverage to sustain.
In every aspect, Isolde overshadowed him—socially and in terms of status. But that didn’t mean he was destined to fail.
Duncan hugged his rubber duck close, eyes bright with curiosity. “So tell me how my old man used to pour you tea!”

Chapter 4

Most of what happened back then was something Edward Fairchild felt embarrassed to share with his son. Even though he had indeed let Isolde Whitfield look after him, he spent most of his time doing what Isolde wanted. Isolde was a gentle soul, rarely losing his temper, but when he smiled, there was an undeniable air of authority that made others want to submit.
After graduating from college, Edward began his career as a professional hand model. When Isolde first arrived under the care of Alaric Blackwood, he bowed his head slightly, his shy smile barely parting his lips. Edward watched him take on tasks he clearly didn’t belong doing, and couldn’t help but offer him extra care.
But that innocence lasted only a day. By the second day, Isolde had begun to express his opinion on every little thing Edward did. Edward tolerated him for quite a while, but soon things escalated to the point where even the color of his underwear had to be approved by Isolde.
After Edward transitioned from a wealthy landowner to Samuel Longridge, his agent Alaric became nothing more than Isolde’s yes-man. Alaric even asked Isolde for his help in selecting the endorsements Edward should pursue.
In those days, Edward’s naivety was apparent. He thought that maybe Isolde truly knew what he was doing, and that it would be wise not to offend him in case he got further ahead in the industry. Keeping this in mind, Edward obeyed him dutifully; Isolde treated him better than his own mother, so much that Edward often felt exhausted on Isolde’s behalf.
Everything seemed fine until a celebration for a big advertising campaign for a luxury watch in the Far Lands went south. Edward got drunk. The next morning, he woke up to find Isolde lying naked beside him, his eyes puffy and red, his nose a telltale shade of crimson. A single glance was enough to convey that he must have cried his heart out the night before.
As Isolde saw him wake up, he nearly broke down, saying, “Before last night, I was still a virgin like my pillow. Today, you’ve taken that from me, and now I realize I’m into guys. I’m an only child, and because of you, our family line might end. Thanks a lot for that.”
Isolde always carried his own pillow around, insisting on holding it to sleep at night. Since that fateful evening, he successfully replaced the pillow's position in his bed. He explained, “I didn’t want to hug my pillow because it was still a virgin.”
Edward’s mind raced. He realized he had mistakenly altered Isolde’s entire sexual orientation—he could have ruined him. “Please don’t cry. I can make it up to you.” Though it was Edward's first time too, he at least knew he was into men—and he was definitely the receiver.
“Make it up to me how?” Isolde grasped the quilt, looking utterly pitiful. “Our family line is practically extinct! My grandfather is on his deathbed, waiting to see his grandson before he goes. So what are you going to do about it?”
Edward couldn't help but apologize continuously, trying to think of ways to compensate Isolde. “How about I give you a hundred grand? You can try to see if you can still like girls. I’ve heard that it’s mostly innate, and you might just want to try something new…”
Isolde quickly scanned Edward’s expression, his lips curling in disdain. “There’s also a chance of it being forced... You tied me up last night and threatened me, remember? Said if I didn’t make you feel good, you’d kill me.”
Edward felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him.
All he could offer to make amends was money, and he desperately pleaded with Isolde not to share this embarrassing incident. The modeling world had its fair share of gay individuals, and the hand modeling scene was no different; he needed to protect himself.
“As long as you forget what happened last night, that hundred grand is yours.”
“You want to throw money at me to pretend this didn’t happen?” Isolde stopped pretending to be pitiful and closed the distance between them, a fiercely cold stare sending chills down Edward’s spine.
“Otherwise, what do you expect?” Edward summoned his courage. “If you refuse, you might not even see that money. I have a good standing in this industry now, and if you cross me, I’ll make sure you get beaten up and tossed into the Far Lands.”
“Come on, please just take the money.” Edward thought to himself. “You were deflowered by me, and I lost something too, you know.”

Chapter 5

Because of those final words, Edward Fairchild finally realized that Samuel Longridge truly had turned himself into a wealthy landowner. When Isolde Whitfield ripped off her cheerful facade, it revealed a fierce reality beneath.
In the end, the film crew returned home, while Isolde stayed behind along with Edward. Edward found himself confined in a house surrounded by water, a predicament that forced him into an uncomfortable partnership with Isolde. Without hesitation, she ruthlessly chopped the small boat that had brought them there into firewood right in front of him.
"When the Winter family doesn't face extinction," she replied coolly.
"And how do we eat? We can’t survive without a boat to bring supplies."
"Air drops," she shrugged indifferently.
"Then I might as well use this boat as a coffin," he retorted. Considering it was just the two of them, it felt inevitable that the Winter family would indeed face extinction. But fate seemed to intervene; a year later, Edward left the house cradling a crying infant in his arms.
Duncan Frost had been sickly since birth, spending nearly every other day of the month in the hospital. Edward was deeply concerned for him, and together with Isolde, they practically lived in the Healing Hall, where their bond deepened even as their conflicts began to surface.
Only once Duncan recovered did Edward begin to contemplate his own future. He wasn’t seeking noble freedom; instead, he was envious of Cecelia, who had managed to escape the clutches of a wealthy landowner. As a member of the shining new generation, he worried about aligning himself with such a morally questionable class.
Their history was laced with romance. Perhaps it was during Isolde's tenure as his assistant that he first fell for her; after all, he would never have stooped to abducting someone else otherwise.
***
Determined to reclaim his independence, Edward asked for the day off from Isolde first thing in the morning. After all, she was his superior.
"I want to go see an old friend—Alaric, you remember him."
Isolde sliced an apple into wedges. "Skip the milk today; you ran to the restroom twice yesterday. I had Aunt Mabel whip up some millet porridge for you. Just eat half a boiled egg, and no tossing the egg whites! Have half an apple too. No bananas today; I'll be back for lunch to eat with you."
Here she goes again, always brushing aside his requests. "I want to see Alaric," he insisted.
"Why do you need to see him?" she asked, puzzled.
"I haven’t had a friend in years. I just want to catch up and talk. Isolde, at this rate, I’m going to go insane!"
“It’s not healthy to get angry in the morning,” she replied with soft concern.
“Do I have to schedule my anger?” Edward slammed the table, standing up in frustration.
Isolde slowly lifted Duncan into her lap, their almost identical eyes fixed on Edward. He sniffled, glancing down at the perfectly fried egg on his plate. “I shouldn’t have cursed or yelled. Today, I need to sit on the couch for ten minutes and write ‘civilized phrases’ twenty times.”
"You set a good example for the child. I’m proud of you, Edward. And kneel on a cushion, don’t hurt yourself," Isolde said, patting his hand as she took Duncan back inside to get things ready.
Once inside, she tossed Duncan’s little backpack on the table. “Today, you’re going out with your dad. You know the drill; if you fall asleep, there’ll be no cartoons this month.”
Duncan pouted, wanting to cry. “But I promised Young Brother Edmund I’d help with homework!”
Isolde upturned the backpack. “Do your homework on your PSP.”
“Dad, you don’t know; he—”
“Poor guy hasn’t even seen a PSP before. You’ve already used that excuse on Pip the Plump,” Isolde countered mercilessly. “You need to realize your father is planning to divorce me—this is him looking for a backup plan. Once he finds it, he’s gone for good.”
Duncan was sharp. “He would take me with him.” The idea of escaping into freedom thrilled and terrified him.
“Don’t be naïve, alright?”
“...I’m just thinking,” Duncan sniffled, “Is it wrong to think? I’ll look out for him. You can’t take away the game console.”
***
Edward successfully took Duncan out for the day, accompanied by their driver, Young Marek, and their nanny, Aunt Mabel. He visited Alaric at his studio, who had been thriving, having left his previous company to start his own venture and signing several promising models.
“So, what? You want to get back into hand modeling?” Alaric burst into laughter after a moment’s shock. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve already tied the knot! Look at your son—he’s basically a mini-Isolde. Isn’t he adorable?”
Edward twitched a smile. “Yeah, check out my hands. Aren’t they more splendid than before?” Ever since getting married, Isolde forbade him from using water or beauty products, insisting he maintain them only through food. His naturally slender hands, now even more pale and soft, looked like they could slip through one’s grasp at a moment’s notice.
“And your face too! You look way more stunning. Honestly, I shouldn’t have gotten you into hand modeling; I should have signed you as a full-fledged model instead. You’ve got the height for it!”
“Modeling would be fine,” Edward grimaced through gritted teeth.
Alaric chuckled. “I’m just teasing; take it easy. There’s no shortage of models nowadays. For every position, there’s a line a mile long. You know what’s in high demand nowadays?”
“What?” Edward asked, eager for insight.
“*Props for emotional expressions!* The market is overflowing with demand, and the workload is relentless. Are you interested?”
Feeling the weight of the disappointment, Edward sat outside on the steps, fuming. Alaric spoke without a thought for Duncan nearby; the industry was toxic. He needed an alternative path, but what could he do? He hadn’t used his university knowledge in years—it was long gone.
Aunt Mabel came over. “It’s cold on the ground, Edward; Mr. Winter sent out a cushion for you. It’s to keep you from sitting in the dirt.”
“Can I ask you for a favor, Edward?” Aunt Mabel hesitated. “I just got a call; my grandson has had some trouble at school. I’d like to check on him. He’s in town, so it’s not far; I can be back in an hour.”
“Isn’t your son and daughter-in-law at the county?”
“They’re here to aid him at school. They’ve rented a place nearby. The landlord just put the property up for sale, and now my grandson has nowhere to stay.”

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