Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 13: Mara Bryce

>Mara Bryce

It was the weekend, and the busy city was buzzing in its usual glamour as I stood against the glass wall of the skyscraper that housed my condo. I was still in a loose white robe, the fabric brushing softly against my skin, a glass of wine balanced lazily in my left hand. Below me, the city glittered, unaware that I had every intention of spending another day free from responsibilities—free from the suffocating idea of becoming anyone’s successor. I took a sip of the wine.

What a life.

Then, suddenly, my phone buzzed.

I let out a small sigh before pushing myself off the glass and walking toward the table where I’d left it. I picked the phone up, plopped onto the sofa, and pressed the answer button, bringing it to my ear with casual laziness.

"Yes?" I muttered, reaching blindly with my free hand to grab the TV remote, clicking buttons to find something mindless to watch.

"I think Kaizer already found you," the man on the other end said—my cousin from my mother’s side, Venzrich Archeval. His flat tone made me pause mid-click. My brow furrowed.

"How?" I asked sharply.

Kaizer was my older brother, and I had been slipping in and out of hiding these past few months after hearing that my mother was planning to leave her company to me.

Kaizer already managed our father’s. And there was nothing—absolutely nothing—I hated more than being dragged into the business world.

My grandfather—my mother’s father—was a very traditional man, so traditional that I was certain he would threaten whoever inherited the company to get married. That old fossil had been demanding great-grandchildren like they were overdue library books, and it was driving me insane.

Every grandchild despised that expectation, including my brother, who was more than willing to use me as bait just so he could slip away from it all.

"How do I know? I’ve got problems myself," Venzrich replied, followed by the rustling of documents and the hum of a car engine.

"Yeah, I heard you got set up by Grandpa, too," I chuckled, the irony bitter on my tongue. At least, someone’s in a worse state than me.

His sigh on the other line was practically a groan. "Yeah, I just left their house after canceling the engagement."

I leaned my head against the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers. "I don’t think the old man will let you, though."

"By the way," I added, "do you think I can escape Kaizer if I leave the country tomorrow?"

I’ve no plan of being a married woman at 22. I have a lot of life ahead of me.

"I’m sure he’s already got every airport monitored. If you leave, he’ll find you right then and there." His voice was as monotonous as always, each word dragged out like talking was a chore he deeply regretted.

"I’m hanging up," he said abruptly—and before I could even inhale to reply, the call ended.

I swear to God, that man—! I cursed internally as I tossed my phone across the sofa and dragged both hands down my face in exasperation.

Ding dong.

Ding dong.

Ding dong.

The doorbell rang repeatedly, rapid and impatient. I jolted upright.

Who the hell is that?

Annoyed, I stomped toward the door. "Wait!" I shouted, grabbing the handle and yanking it open.

What I saw next nearly broke me.

"H-help..." Mallory whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face was swollen with bruises, streaked with dried and fresh blood trickling from a cut on her forehead. She was shaking, clutching a small handbag in her chest like it was her only lifeline.

I froze for a heartbeat as she stumbled forward, practically collapsing into my arms as if she had finally reached safety. Panic shot through me.

"What happened?" I asked, but she remained silent. I grabbed her shoulders, trying to steady her, guiding her slowly but urgently toward the sofa.

I knelt in front of her as she sat, her eyes empty—void of anything human.

"Can you tell me what happened?" My voice trembled with barely controlled rage, but I forced it to remain gentle to not trigger the poor woman in front of me, who looked like she was on the verge of collapsing.

What kind of demon—what kind of monster—would dare do this to her?

"They... they’re gonna kill my baby..." she sobbed, her arms wrapping protectively around her stomach like it was the only thing she could still hold onto.

"I swear to God, I’m gonna fucking kill them," I snapped, already rising, ready to storm out and tear her entire family apart with my bare hands, when she grabbed my hand mid-movement.

"Don’t leave me. I’m afraid... I d-don’t wanna be here anymore... they’re gonna find me... they’re gonna kill my baby..." Her voice cracked, her eyes darting wildly with panic and raw fear. My whole body shook. Mallory—who never asked for anything—was begging for help.

She always told me her family treated her poorly, but she always said it like it was normal. Like she’d learned to live with it, like it was normal.

Just looking at her now made me want to destroy them all.

How could a small family, barely scraping into the top ten biggest companies, act with such arrogance and get away with this? They weren’t even powerful—just millionaires with too much pride and too little conscience.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I sat beside her and pulled her into a hug. Nothing else mattered right now. She was alive. That was enough. The moment my arms wrapped around her, she broke completely, sobbing into me—whether from fear or relief, I couldn’t tell.

We stayed like that for a long time. I rubbed her back gently, over and over, trying to soothe her trembling.

"You’ll be fine now. No one can touch you. You’re safe," I whispered, repeating it until her breathing slowed and her eyes grew heavy. Eventually, she fell asleep.

I lifted her carefully and tucked her into my bed, pulling the blankets over her before marching back to my sofa and snatching up my phone.

I dialed the number I had avoided the most.

After only a few rings, someone picked up.

"Finally called, Princess?" my brother Kaizer’s familiar voice drawled.

"I’m going back home..." I said quietly.

"Really?!" His excitement was palpable, almost boyish.

"I’ll do it in a few months. I have to fly to the United States for now."

_____

"Yes, I’ll just drop off something quick," I said into the phone, my heels clicking against the polished floor of the hotel hallway. I stopped in front of one of the doors, entered the passcode, and the lock clicked open.

"I’ll drop the call now." I didn’t wait for a reply before ending the call.

The moment I stepped inside, I heard tiny footsteps rushing toward me.

"Hi, sweetie! Aunty Daddy is here!" I announced brightly, pushing my sunglasses up to sit on my head before crouching with open arms. A small laugh echoed through the room as the little boy launched himself into my hug.

"You want me to cook you something?" Mallory asked as she appeared after him. I gave a kiss on little Asher’s head.

I glanced up—and there she was. Mallory. The same woman who’d appeared at my door bruised and broken six years ago. Her face still carried traces of the past, traumas that would never fully disappear, but her smile—this time—reached her eyes.

It hurt me a little that she refused to ask for help even if she was struggling, but I came to understand that it’s her way of coping.

That’s right. It had already been six years.

"Don’t bother, I just came to drop off his new toys," I said, turning to offer the little boy the bag I was holding. His face lit up instantly, and he bolted off with a delighted squeal.

"He only ever smiles for you and me..." Mallory murmured, her gaze soft but heavy with sadness as she watched him.

"He still refuses to speak?"