Anyone Can Suffer--Prologue

A very short prologue to a short story I'm writing

Prologue- London, February 1926

Johan Aldour's birth was insignificant. When he was retrieved from the operating table, he was cleaned of all the fluids, draped in a small square of soft wool, and returned promptly to his mother's quivering arms. She smiled down at him with tears rolling down her cheeks before falling asleep. Despite the pain she felt, it was the happiest moment of her life; to fall asleep with her healthy, beautiful child. That night--in a completely unrelated event--his mother died of an aneurysm.

His father Vernon, who hadn't been there for the birth of his only son, came in the next morning. His eyes were hard, his face was stern, he did not cry at the news. He simply retrieved the fragile bundle which slept, totally unaware of its loss. Johan was left at home with the housekeeper--his father had to go back to work.

“Mister Aldour, you're not well... I- I know what happened to Miss Juliet, please, you've been working nonstop for weeks! It's okay to stay home; home with your new son. It's okay to feel upset,” She tried to reason with him.

Grimly: “As much as I would like to do precisely that miss deLoria, I cannot. The shipping industry does not pause for family tragedies, nor for miracles. This is no different for a lowly dockworker as it is for a leader or grand strategist--whichever you'd call me. I cannot afford to let my business sink because of,” he made a vague gesture towards the child which miss deLoria was now holding, “this.” At that, he turned on his heel and made for the door.

“Mister Aldour, this isn't-” he was gone already, the 3 meter tall, gilded wooden door to their London mansion slamming behind him, “I don't even know the poor child's name,” She muttered, her solemn voice echoing through the empty foyer.