Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 23: In their new home

>Mallory

I bit my lip as I created a new social media account just like Mara instructed. The pale light from my phone illuminated the room, outlining the furniture in faint blue. Each tap on the screen sounded louder than necessary in the quiet, and my pulse picked up in response.

After leaving Country P, I deleted every social media account I had, worried my family would use them to track me down and haul me back home. That thought alone made the confirmation message that popped up feel strangely final.

Account created successfully.

I switched to the search bar and typed in Venzrich’s name. Instantly, several top results appeared.

Famous Young Billionaire Wedding Cancelled Due to Infidelity, Fiancé Says

Venzrich Archeval Has a Child Outside of Marriage?

Flashed: Venzrich Archeval, Wedding Cancelled After Being Crashed by Secret Lover

There was no shortage of articles. The more I scrolled, the more exaggerated the headlines became.

"Huh?" I narrowed my eyes and scrolled back up, checking each article more carefully. My suspicion was confirmed: not a single photo of us appeared anywhere. Either no one managed to capture one, or they’d all been taken down.

I exhaled and dialed Mara.

She answered immediately—of course she did.

"What exactly did you want me to see? There are no pictures of us," I said, frowning at the screen.

"Obviously," she replied. "Everyone at that wedding was elite, and my grandpa paid the entire staff to keep quiet."

"Then why tell me to check social media and search his name?" I asked, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t wake Asher.

"Because..." she huffed. "You wouldn’t make an account otherwise. Add your husband or he’ll ki—anyway, I’m hanging up." She cut herself off and ended the call before I could respond.

I stared at the phone for a second before tossing it onto the soft cushion.

Anyway, whatever it was could be tomorrow’s problem, for tomorrow me.

I lay down carefully beside my son, spooning him as I lightly tapped his thigh. My eyelids grew heavier by the second before they finally shut. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

---

I woke to sunlight stretching across the bed, warm and persistent. I shifted, stretching my stiff limbs before glancing at my son, still curled up beside me, breathing softly. For a moment, I simply watched him sleep before slipping out of bed.

I hadn’t really taken in the room last night—my body had been running on fumes and my brain had refused to process anything—but now that I was actually looking, it felt... cozy. Calming, even. The walls were painted a muted blue that made the morning light softer, and the room was almost the same size as the condo Mara rented for me back in New York—technically, the condo I insisted on paying for.

A small bedside table stood beside the bed, topped with a simple lampshade. There was a study desk tucked in the corner and a bookshelf that looked barely touched. I wandered over and let my fingers trail along the spines. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d read for myself. I pulled one book out, flipped through a few pages without really absorbing anything, then slid it back into place.

The dresser caught my attention next. I opened it, expecting emptiness. After all, I hadn’t brought a single change of clothes—just the wedding dress clinging to me, itchy and uncomfortable from yesterday’s event.

Instead, the dresser was packed. Women’s clothes, neatly arranged, every single piece still sporting a tag.

I lifted one experimentally and nearly dropped it when I saw the price.

One dress costs more than my son’s therapy session. And it didn’t even look that impressive.

Was I really allowed to wear these? It felt wrong. But I needed to get changed. I needed to make breakfast. And standing around in this dress definitely wasn’t an option.

I inhaled, shut my eyes, and grabbed one at random.

It was his fault I was here anyway. I might as well make use of what came with the situation.

With that flimsy but comforting justification, I headed to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and finally made my way downstairs.

---

The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I froze.

The refrigerator was enormous. Not just big—absurd. A fridge that looked like it cost more than my life. I opened it cautiously, half expecting a security alarm to scream at me for daring to touch billionaire property.

Instead, cold air spilled out, and—

"What in the world..." I stared.

It was full. Not normal, full—strategically full. Organized by color, category, and probably vitamin content. Fresh fruits, vegetables, eggs, premium cuts of meat, yogurt, juices, artisanal cheeses I couldn’t pronounce... and a tiny labeled section dedicated entirely to kid-friendly snacks.

I blinked. "Okay, so someone bought this yesterday."

I grabbed a few eggs and some bread, deciding simple was safest. I wasn’t about to touch anything with packaging I couldn’t read without potentially poisoning us by accident. And honestly, I didn’t have the energy to do so.

As I cooked, the house felt too quiet. Every sizzle from the pan, every clink of a plate echoed like the walls were listening.

I plated two servings and set them on the table. Asher still hadn’t woken up, so I went back upstairs to get him—

DING DONG.

I flinched so hard my knee hit the wall.

"Who—?" I whispered.

The doorbell rang again, longer this time, as if whoever was outside had no intention of leaving. But he said he’ll return after two weeks.

I hurried downstairs and approached the main door cautiously. When I opened it a crack, a man in a delivery uniform beamed at me.

"Good morning, ma’am! Are you Mrs. Archeval?"

Mrs. Archeval.

Is that supposed to be me?

"...Yes?" I opened the door a bit wider.

"Great! We have your delivery." He stepped aside and motioned behind him.

A truck.

An actual truck.

And behind him, two men were unloading what could only be described as a mountain of boxes.

"Wait, wait—there must be a mistake," I said. "I didn’t order anything."

"Oh, these aren’t store orders," the man replied, checking his clipboard. "These are personal deliveries. Pre-paid. Priority. Signature required."

I stared at the pile. "You’re joking."

"No, ma’am, but if it makes you feel better, I wish I were. This is our first delivery today." He stepped forward with a pen. "Please, sign here."

"First?!" My voice cracked. Oh yeah, it’s eight in the morning.

He only shrugged sympathetically.

I signed, mostly because I didn’t know what else to do, and the men began moving boxes inside. I watched helplessly as my quiet morning turned into a warehouse event.

Once the delivery crew finally left, I took a breath and closed the door.

The living room was... gone.

No, not gone. Buried.

Boxes were stacked in towers of various sizes, some marked with luxury brand logos, others plain and unassuming.

I poked one of the boxes with my toe.

From upstairs, I heard tiny footsteps.

"I’m here, baby!" I turned.

Asher appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes sleepily. When he saw the boxes, he froze.

He looked at me with his doe eyes. I can basically see the floating question marks above his head.

"Uh," I said intelligently, " it’s stuff."

He padded down the steps carefully.

One box in particular caught my eye. It was smaller than the rest and wrapped neatly. I picked it up. Unlike the others, this one had a handwritten note taped to it.

My chest tightened.

I peeled the note off.

These are your things. The rest are replacements or necessities. —V.

I swallowed.

Inside the box, nestled carefully, were my belongings that I left at Mara’s house. Our clothes, Asher’s little dinosaur blanket. A picture drawn by Asher of the two of us holding hands beneath a crooked sun.

Asher gasped, grabbing the blanket and hugging it to his chest.

Warmth spread through me unexpectedly.

For a moment, I didn’t know what to feel.

Grateful?

Overwhelmed?

Annoyed that he sent an entire mall to our doorstep?

Probably all three.

I sat on the floor, Asher plopping down beside me.

"Well," I said, attempting to sound normal, "we should probably start sorting."

Asher nodded seriously, as if we were about to embark on a mission.

We opened another box—this one filled with kitchen tools. The next held the towels. Another had fancy soap that smelled like a garden from a romance movie.

"Wow," I muttered. "He really thinks I’m someone who uses linen spray."

We continued sorting until breakfast was no longer warm, but Asher didn’t mind. He happily ate while sitting on top of a sealed box as if it were a throne.

For the first time since arriving, the house didn’t feel suffocating and strange.

Just messy.

And surprisingly... livable.

I exhaled.

Maybe today wouldn’t be all that bad.

Maybe.

But as I took another bite of cold toast, the doorbell rang again.

I stared at the door, horrified.

"Oh no," I whispered. "Not again."

Asher blinked innocently.