Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 26: You’re kinda talkative

>Mallory

I woke up with my whole body feeling heavy and groggy, like someone had poured sand into my veins.

My head throbbed dully, and the first thing I noticed was the cool weight of a wet towel resting on my forehead. A blanket was wrapped snugly around me, tucked carefully at the sides as if someone was trying to keep me from shivering. I blinked slowly, my eyes adjusting to the soft morning light leaking through the curtains. My clothes were different too—clean, loose, smelling faintly of detergent. It took me a few seconds to realize they weren’t the ones I remembered wearing before I passed out.

And when realization finally hit me, I jolted upright so fast my vision spun.

Wait.

Who took care of me?

My feet swung down from the bed, my legs wobbling under my weight. I ignored it and pushed myself up anyway. A deep pinch of worry twisted inside my chest, tightening more and more with every breath.

No one was here to watch over my son while I was unconscious. No one.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I staggered toward the door. Asher... My baby... There’s no way he could have handled everything on his own. He was just a child. My child. The guilt gnawed at me as my fingers curled around the doorknob.

The moment I twisted it open, soft noises drifted from downstairs. A soft clinking of utensils, sizzling in the plan, the muted hum of movement. The sound confused me, but my panic drowned out any attempt to think clearly.

I forced myself down the stairs, my hand gripping the railing tight. My voice came out hoarse and scratchy as I called out.

"Baby?"

For a heartbeat there was silence. Then the quick, light patter of little footsteps echoed from the kitchen. Relief washed over me so suddenly my knees almost gave out. A smile tugged at my lips as his small face peeked around the corner, eyes bright and mouth stretched into a grin so big it looked like it might split his cheeks.

"Come here," I whispered, opening my arms.

He didn’t hesitate for even a second. He ran—no, he launched himself—straight into my embrace. I caught him, burying his warm, tiny body against mine. I rained kisses all over his cheeks and forehead, inhaling the familiar scent of his shampoo, but something made me pause. I pulled back a little and held him at arm’s length.

"You smell so sweet," I murmured.

He blinked at me innocently, and that’s when I noticed the smear of whipped cream clinging messily to the corner of his mouth.

My eyes drifted to the kitchen. The clinking of utensils continued, mixed with the steady sizzling of something on a pan. Someone was definitely cooking.

"Who’s with you?" I asked.

Asher’s eyes sparkled like I’d asked him if he wanted candy.

"D-daddy!" he squealed happily.

"Daddy?" My head tilted in confusion. My heartbeat stumbled.

Is he... back?

Before I could ask anything else, Asher grabbed my fingers with his small, sticky hands and tugged hard, pulling me toward the kitchen with all the strength his little arms could muster.

What I saw when I stepped inside made my breath catch.

Venzrich stood by the stove, sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt rolled neatly to his elbows, exposing the defined lines of his forearms. He wore a plain black apron tied tight around his waist. His hair was brushed back, though a few strands were falling loose and framed his face. A plate rested in his palm as he set it gently on the counter.

"You’re awake," he said without looking startled, as if he already knew I would come down at this moment.

He slid the last piece of egg from the pan onto a plate. The marbled counter gleamed under the lights, and the cold surface pressed against my palms when I moved closer, leaning weakly on the stool.

"You shouldn’t have bother—" I began, wanting to tell him he didn’t need to do all this when I haven’t even agreed to anything yet.

But then my eyes landed on Asher’s bright, cheerful face. The way he bounced excitedly on his feet. The way he looked so safe.

My voice faltered.

Instead, I bit my lip and let out a soft breath.

"Thank you," I murmured.

The truth was simple: I didn’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t been here. I didn’t care if I got sick. But my son... He would’ve starved or cried himself to exhaustion. He might’ve spiraled into panic attacks and his condition would worsen. Just because I wasn’t able to handle my body well.

I gently lifted my arms, ready to place Asher on his stool, but before I could, Venzrich moved in swift, effortless motion. He scooped Asher from my hands and lifted him onto the chair like he weighed nothing.

"If you’re really thankful," he said, giving my head a light pat as if scolding a child, "you should take better care of yourself."

He nodded toward the plate of eggs and pancakes. It was simple, a little uneven, but warm. Drizzled with maple syrup and topped with a bit too much whipped cream.

"It’s my first time cooking something, so I hope it’s edible at least," he added, sitting across from us with his elbows resting on the counter.

I picked up the fork, my fingers trembling a little, and took a spoonful of pancake. I expected it to be too sweet or too burnt.

But it wasn’t. Not too sweet.

Just the way I like it.

I felt my lips curve slightly. "You sure it’s your first time?" I joked lightly.

He scoffed. "I’d be more surprised if you think I cook my own meals."

He tasted his own plate, nodding in approval. "Turned out decent at least."

He opened his mouth to speak again. "By the way, I ordered some more comfortable clothes for yo—"

"Oh, I’m size small." I cut him off, remembering the clothes on the rack. They were slightly bigger on me, I didn’t use them a because they are uncomfortable.

"I know." His expression didn’t change, its serious and matter-of-fact. "I confirmed yesterday that you never change at all."

Yesterday?

Did he...?

I gasped and wrapped my arms around myself instinctively. His brows furrowed when he saw my reaction.

"I didn’t do it," he said firmly, shaking his head. "You think I’m mad enough to do that to a sick woman?"

Before I could respond, he turned toward Asher. "Hey, brat. You better stuff yourself after all the crying you did."

Asher nodded solemnly, unaware of the insult, as he was busy chewing.

"I wanted to hire help," Venzrich continued, "but the kid wouldn’t stop trembling around them, so I dismissed everyone. But I made sure they changed you first."

I blinked at him.

He explained even though I hadn’t asked.

He didn’t owe me that explanation.

He didn’t owe me anything.

He was nothing like the man Mara described to me, or it’s more of complaining? She said he was cold and distant man who barely spoke unless necessary. That version of him didn’t match the man sitting in front of me now, cutting pancakes with mild concentration.

I even started to hate him even though I haven’t had a slightest idea who he is because of Mara’s complaints.

Rumors really didn’t do justice once you met the real person.

A small laugh slipped out of me.

His brows knitted, confused.

"You’re kinda talkative, you know?" I said with a smile.

"Huh?" He froze, knife midair.

"Oh, never mind." I waved it off gently.

He looked almost... disappointed to himself. As if he had done something wrong.

Then he pointed his knife at Asher. "By the way, who’s that brat’s father? He keeps calling me daddy."

Asher looked at me too, waiting for my answer with cream on his lips.

"Oh, we already cut contact with him," I said simply.

It wasn’t entirely a lie since we never really have any connection with each other. I don’t need him to know that I had slept with a stranger in a club and ended up pregnant.

"I see," Venzrich said, not pushing further.

Silence settled between us after that. Thick, heavy and almost suffocating. The kind that made my chest feel tight, reminding me too much of the house I grew up in. The quiet there was always sharp, like walking on glass.

I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again. I didn’t know how to begin.

"Say it," Venzrich said, still not looking up.

I blinked at him.

"You wanted to say something, right? Just say it."

Now he lifted his gaze, staring straight at me with a kind of calm patience that startled me.

I fiddled with my fingers before I finally gathered enough courage to speak.

"A-about the contract..." I whispered, stammering.

"What about it?" he asked, eyes fixed on mine.

"I needed to ask you one question before I give my answer."