Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 20: Remember you?

>Mallory

I haven’t even had the time to process anything when a group of men and women in uniform approached me and gently surrounded me. Before I could ask what was happening, one of the women stepped forward and extended her hand toward me, her posture rigid and polite.

"Madam, this way, please."

Her tone was firm, but her eyes softened a little as if she could sense how overwhelmed I was.

Mara reacted faster than I did. She reached for Asher, and my son—just when I needed him to cling to me the most—went to her without a single complaint. He wrapped his arms around her neck, calm as ever behind his tinted glasses and headphones. I forced a small smile at her, though my hands were already turning cold, my fingers tightening together as I reluctantly allowed myself to be guided away. I kept glancing back every few steps, checking if Asher was okay, if he was watching me, if this whole thing terrified him as much as it terrified me.

Behind us, Alisha’s voice boomed across the room.

"Mr. Archeval! What is the meaning of this?!"

But the old man simply returned to his seat like the whole chaos was nothing more than an annoying commercial break to him. He didn’t even spare her a look.

"You will be properly compensated. So leave," he said in a cold, bored tone.

He spared them no discussion, no explanation. A group of men in suits moved in, dragging the entire Morrow family away as if they were props being cleared offstage. I saw how much they tried to struggle but I just know they’ll much rather protect their remaining dignity than to cause a scene.

I smiled. Honestly, their reaction felt a little satisfying.

I didn’t get the chance to look back again. The employees were already leading me down a quiet hallway, and then into a stunningly luxurious room—so bright and pristine it almost hurt my eyes. There was a huge vanity mirror lined with neatly organized makeup products, white roses arranged everywhere like a perfect showpiece, and a chandelier casting warm yellow light across the polished floors.

"We have very limited time, so we’ll be taking your measurements while we do your makeup," one of the women explained with a professional smile. She acted like this was the most normal thing in the world. I respect her for that.

They brought me in front of a full-length mirror that stretched from the floor all the way to the ceiling. I stood there awkwardly, unsure where to place my hands or how to breathe properly.

"Alright..." I managed to say, though I honestly had no idea what was happening anymore.

It felt unreal—how efficient they were, how confident and how fast they worked. The pay might actually be so good for them to act like their life depended on this job.

Within almost an hour, they somehow produced a wedding dress tailored exactly to my size. It hugged my body perfectly and then flared into a mermaid silhouette below the knee. Someone slid lace gloves over my hands, the material soft and comfortable—too comfortable for something meant for a last minute wedding.

My hair was pulled up into an elegant bun, decorated with small pearls that shimmered under the chandelier. They did my makeup with such precision that when I finally looked into the mirror again, I almost didn’t recognize myself. Everything was tailored for my face. For a long second, I stared at the woman in the reflection like she was someone else entirely.

"Oh my! You look absolutely amazing!" the makeup artist squealed behind me.

I gave her an awkward smile. "I don’t think I deserve any of the credit for your skill."

"Come on! A good makeup needs a good face to work with," she said, clapping her hands. Two other women stepped forward and smoothly attached a shimmering veil to my hair.

And then—just like that—the massive double doors opened.

"Here comes the bride!"

My cue.

My palms were slick with sweat as I tightened my grip around the bouquet of white roses. The scent was soft and fresh, but my nerves drowned everything out. When I stepped inside, every single head turned toward me. The air shifted. The music—slow, romantic—echoed faintly around the room, but it was muffled by the pounding in my chest.

My heels clicked against the floor, echoing too loudly, like each step was a reminder of how trapped I was. My heart was beating so hard it actually hurt.

Even through the veil, I could see him clearly.

The man I had seen earlier in a black suit was now wearing a white suit embroidered with gold. He looked unreal—like something that shouldn’t exist in the same world we. normal looking people lived in. The black suit earlier made him look powerful. The white one he was wearing made him look godly. Almost glowing.

Next to him stood Asher, tiny hands gripping the man’s coat. His also wearing a small white tux, his headphones were still on, his tinted glasses shielding him from the bright lights. Mara must have explained everything about his sensory triggers, and whoever dressed him had listened. That thought alone softened my fear enough to let a smile form under the veil.

I didn’t have a father to walk me down the aisle, but that was fine. This wasn’t real. This was a transaction, a pretend wedding. Father or no father, nothing about this was ever going to be normal.

I reached the end of the aisle. The man extended his hand, and I placed my trembling fingers in his. He led me gently toward the front of the altar.

"Please be seated," the officiant started.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Mr. Venzrich and Ms. Mallory in marriage."

My hand shook so badly that the man has to tightened his grip, it was a silent attempt to calm me down. It didn’t work, but I appreciated the effort.

"Marriage is a beautiful bond," the officiant continued, "a commitment of love, trust, and partnership. Today, this couple stand before us, ready to begin this new Chapter."

And then came the vow.

"Venzrich Archeval, do you take Mallory Eve to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, in good times and in bad, for as long as you both shall live?"

The man’s reply was deep and smooth. "I do."

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t falter. When he turned slightly toward my direction, I almost forgot how to breathe.

Then it was my turn.

"Mallory Eve, do you take Venzrich Archeval to be your lawfully wedded spouse, to love and to cherish, in good times and in bad, for as long as you both shall live?"

The sound of my name snapped me back to reality. For a moment, I thanked the universe that I had changed my surname to my mother’s when I left Country P for New York or rumors would be far louder than the officiant right now.

"I do," I answered. Like I had any choice.

The ring bearers approached with the rings nestled on a red velvet pillow. The man—Venzrich, even though I wasn’t supposed to call him casually like that—took one ring and gently held my hand. He slid the cold band onto my finger with such gentleness that I momentarily forgot he was a stranger.

My hands shook even worse when I reached for his ring. I almost dropped it. He tilted his head slightly, lips forming a silent: Relax.

I wanted to roll my eyes. As if I could.

"By the authority vested in me," the officiant announced, "I now pronounce you husband and wife for life."

"You may now kiss the bride."

Surely he wouldn’t. Not for real. Not with a stranger.

But he reached for me. Slowly. Deliberately. He lifted the veil, and his face—sharp, perfect, almost unreal—came into full view. Before I could process anything, he slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer.

Then he kissed me.

A real kiss. Firm. Certain.

It lasted almost a full minute. Long enough for my brain to glitch, restart, and glitch again. Long enough that I forgot to breathe.

---

"I’m sorry!" I blurted the moment we entered the wedding car. I was now in a shorter, slightly more comfortable version of the wedding dress, but it didn’t make anything less awkward.

"I swear that wasn’t part of the plan! I didn’t mean for it to go that way!" I clasped my hands together, almost bowing to the floor of the car in panic.

"It’s fine," he said casually, sitting cross-legged like he hadn’t just marry a random woman in front of a hundred people after all his effort to stop his own marriage.

Wait... but he was the one who agreed to this whole arrangement in the first place.

Shouldn’t I be the one asking for apology?

"Would I still get my pay?" I asked, trying to read his reaction. His brow furrowed, his gaze sharpening like he was trying to figure me out.

I risked my life for this. Shouldn’t I still get payed?

"You sure you don’t remember me?" he asked quietly, his eyes curious.

"Daddy..." Asher whispered. He had been clinging to him since we entered the car, his small fingers curled into the fabric of the man’s sleeve.

"Remember you?" I replied casually as I peel away Asher’s hand. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"Of course. How could I forget?"