CHAPTER 3 RETURN TO YORKSHIRE

CHAPTER 3

RETURN TO YORKSHIRE

Spring had always known how to awaken Yorkshire from its long winter sleep.

Bluebells and primroses bloomed wildly along the roads leading toward the Loghan estate. Shades of purple and gold stretched across the endless green fields, creating a breathtaking landscape beneath the open sky.

A black luxury car moved smoothly along the narrow country road.

Inside, Aron Loghan sat perfectly still.

He stared through the window, his posture straight and distant, as though he refused to be touched by anything beyond the glass. Yet his eyes remained sharp, wandering across the familiar landscape as if searching for something he had spent years trying to forget.

Yorkshire had never lost its charm.

As a child, Aron had loved this place with the innocent devotion of a boy who believed he had discovered a kingdom from a fairy tale.

But now, as an adult, he inhaled deeply not to appreciate the fresh countryside air, but to suppress the emotions stirring inside him.

Aron turned away from the window.

A wave of memories returned without permission, cold and painful like a winter storm.

His face remained expressionless, frozen and unreadable.

His jaw tightened as he remembered his mother's words.

"My other children have chosen their own paths. But you, Aron... you are still a Loghan. You are the one who must return. I cannot bear the thought of losing you."

As the eldest son of the Loghan family, this land belonged to him.

The castle.

The legacy.

The name passed down through generations.

But to Aron Loghan, it had never felt like an honor.

It felt like a burden wrapped in thorns.

No one knew that beneath his controlled and powerful exterior, Aron carried a wound from his first love.

A wound that began in this very place.

The car slowed as it approached the grand iron gates bearing the Loghan family crest.

Three meters high, the gates opened slowly, welcoming the heir who had returned reluctantly.

Geby stood waiting at the entrance, her heart filled with excitement as she watched her son arrive.

"Look. Your son is finally home," she said to her husband.

Jeremy did not even look up.

"Carry out your mission. I want no part of it."

Geby smiled.

"I only want Aron to finally choose a wife and give you a grandson who will carry our family name."

Geby welcomed her son at the doorway.

She did not run toward him.

She did not cry dramatically.

She simply stood there with quiet elegance and a warm smile.

"You came home."

Her voice was gentle, carrying the weight of a decade of waiting.

"Because you asked me to, Mom."

Aron's reply was brief.

Cold.

Like the Yorkshire wind blowing outside the tall glass windows.

"You shouldn't have needed to pretend to be sick just to make me return to my own home."

Aron studied his mother carefully.

There were no signs of illness.

No deep exhaustion in her face.

No weakness in her posture.

"You look healthier than you sounded on the phone, Mom."

His tone remained flat.

Geby looked at him without hesitation.

"Because I was never truly sick, Aron."

A faint breath escaped him.

"So this was all just a way to bring me home?"

Geby crossed her arms.

"To save you."

"From what?"

"From loneliness. From the fear you hide behind your work. From the reckless decision you are about to make for the sake of a child."

Aron fell silent.

Not because he had no answer.

But because he had not expected his mother to know everything.

"I spoke with Catherine," Geby continued. "I know your plan, Aron. You want a son. No marriage. No commitment. You want to remove every human emotion from the process and replace it with a legal contract."

"Because marriage is not a guarantee of happiness," Aron replied. "It is easier to purchase commitment with money."

Geby stared at her son.

"That sounds like something a selfish man would say. Not a man ready to become a father."

Aron walked toward the large window overlooking the hills.

"I don't need unnecessary complications in my life. I need clarity. Structure. Control."

"And you believe a child can grow well inside a woman chosen through an interview process, like hiring a personal assistant?"

"I need the best option."

"You are not choosing an organ donor, Aron."

Her voice softened.

"This is a life. Your own blood."

Aron turned back toward her.

"Mom... I will not get married. I don't need a wedding just to provide this family with a male heir. A child can be created through science. It is safer. It is simpler."

Geby slowly approached him.

Her expression remained gentle, but her resolve was unshaken.

"That is exactly why I wanted you to come home."

She looked into his eyes.

"So you could remember what it means to have a family. To have a home. To have a mother and father."

Her voice lowered.

"Not a laboratory or a hospital room where your child will one day ask about their mother."

Aron lowered his gaze.

Whether from exhaustion or from finally realizing he could not win this argument, even he did not know.

From the corner of the room, Jeremy watched them quietly.

He had promised not to interfere.

And he kept that promise.

But he heard every word.

Geby turned toward him.

"Are you not going to say anything?"

Jeremy sighed.

"You wanted to trap our son with your dramatic plan. Now carry out your grand mission."

He glanced at Aron.

"But remember, a Loghan always finds his own way to rebel."

Geby ignored him and returned her attention to her son.

"Listen to me, Aron. You need balance in your life. All the control you have over the world cannot replace the warmth of a wife or the smile of a child born from love instead of a carefully calculated plan."

Aron said nothing.

Geby lifted her chin with quiet determination.

"You will stay here for a while. I will arrange some meetings. Not with doctors. With real women."

She paused.

"I will host a gathering and invite some old friends along with their daughters."

A short, humorless laugh escaped Aron.

"So you want to turn it into a matchmaking event?"

"No."

Geby smiled faintly.

"I only want you to sit down, have a conversation, and experience something real."

Her eyes softened.

"Just this once. For your mother."

Aron looked at her.

For once, he found a force he could not defeat with logic.

A woman who refused to surrender.

"Fine."

His voice was tired.

"Arrange whatever you want. I need to rest."

Aron did not know that his mother had already made another arrangement.

Catherine had been invited to Yorkshire as well.