Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 35: His surviving words

>Mallory

I stood in the hallway with Dr. Chesten, everything seeming to stand still, the soft glow from the lights spilling through the open door behind us. My brain felt like it was rebooting on its own.

"E-excuse me?" I asked when I finally managed to get a question out.

"Oh? Did it surprise you?" he chuckled as he glanced toward the direction of my son, whose attention had turned back to his drawings, though every few seconds his eyes flicked toward us—making sure I hadn’t drifted too far.

"I—I’m sorry I wasn’t able to greet you. I wasn’t informed," I apologized, clasping my hands together in front of him.

I didn’t even know this man was from Country P. There’s very little the public knows about his background. So that’s why my husband was able to hire him; last thing I checked, it was very hard to even get ahold of him.

"Don’t mind that. I purposely didn’t tell you to get your reaction," he started before adding, "Plus, we don’t really look like siblings at all." he chuckled like he was having the time of his life.

But that’s true. Don’t get me wrong, they are both equally gorgeous men, but their features are almost opposite each other.

"A-anyway, do you want some tea?" I offered.

"That would be great," he replied with that same gentle smile.

I turned my attention to my son, whose head lifted as soon as I stepped inside the room. I cupped his cheeks, pinching them like dumplings.

"We’ll be downstairs, okay? Me and the kind doctor," I said, and he nodded.

---

We carefully descended the stairs. I gestured for him to wait on the sofa while I made him tea, and he gladly agreed. A few minutes later, my hands were holding two steaming cups as I carefully placed them on the glass table.

Dr. Chesten, who had been busy reading his notes, lifted his head and smiled.

"About your son’s condition, would it be alright if I asked for his previous records? I have to read them before I make my diagnosis," he asked as I made myself comfortable in my seat.

"Oh yes. My son’s previous hospital is Chasers in New York," I replied. It was a hospital he owned, so he was probably familiar. The previous session with Dr. Blake didn’t really work since Asher refused to even come out of the playroom’s tent until my husband fetched him.

"I see. I didn’t know you were a previous patient in my hospital. I’ll just pull your records out then." He smiled before placing the document he was reading on the table and sipping his tea.

I hesitated to open my mouth, not knowing how to start telling him about Kaizer and my husband’s situation.

"I should... I should explain something," I began, my voice low. "About the people he connects with."

The doctor nodded gently. "Go on."

I leaned against the sofa, the soft cushion grounding me. "He isn’t like this with everyone. It’s not that he’s withdrawn from the whole world. Currently, he’s close to four people. Only four." I paused. It used to only be Mara and me, but strangely enough, he’d grown attached to my husband and Kaizer.

Dr. Chesten’s eyebrows lifted just slightly—attentive.

"There’s me," I continued. "And my best friend—his godmother, Mara. Her brother. And..." I swallowed. "My husband."

The doctor listened without interruption, his posture soft but focused.

"The weird thing is that aside from me and Mara, he didn’t really have a connection with the two before this," I explained. This situation had been bugging me for quite a while; that’s why I’d been more desperate to seek help as soon as possible.

"And what’s more is he can also talk," I said, feeling the words tug at something raw inside me. "Not a lot. Not like before the incident. But he managed to get out a single word."

"You mentioned earlier she’s not speaking now," Dr. Chesten said gently. "But there’s something he can say?"

I nodded. "One word." My throat tightened. "He can say ’Daddy.’ It’s the only word he hasn’t lost."

Dr. Chesten absorbed that without a flicker of judgment. He glanced back toward the room, his eyes focused in thought. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

I exhaled shakily. "What makes it complicated is... he barely knew my husband when he first said it. We’d only been together a very short time. He didn’t warm to anyone. But him? He said ’Daddy’ to him almost immediately."

He nodded.

"And how did you feel about that?" Dr. Chesten asked softly, his eyes observant, calculating every reaction I made.

I sighed. "I was stunned, of course," I admitted. "And honestly? I was flustered. Because before his trauma—before everything changed—he used to call my best friend, his godmother, ’Auntie Daddy’ too."

The doctor blinked, surprised but not dismissive. "Your best friend? As in, she called his auntie figure ’Daddy’?"

"Yes. It was Mara who insisted, because she said they look alike and share the same mole placement." I rubbed my hands together, my lips curving slightly upward

.

Then, I started telling him the exact scenes in the airport, in the magazine, and in the Bryce Mansion—excluding, of course, the details of the mission and my real purpose here. He listened intently to all my explanations, even taking down some notes.

Dr. Chesten’s eyes softened with understanding. "I see. You said he has facial blindness?"

I nodded.

"Then one reason might be that Mara and my brother look strangely alike. They even felt more like siblings than we do. Your son might’ve familiarized the features as a father figure, but it can also depend on the nature of the accident that rendered him mute." I clasped my cold hands together, hearing his words echo in my mind.

Dr. Chesten crossed his arms lightly—not closed off, just thoughtful. "Children don’t rely on labels the way we do. They attach meaning to safety, comfort, familiarity in shape or sound. If your best friend’s presence represented stability, and your husband shares similar visual cues... the connection makes sense. And the word he held onto—’Daddy’—may be less about the role and more about a feeling."

I bit my lip. "A feeling?"

"Of safety," he said. "Of belonging. Of someone who mirrors a part of his world he trusted before the trauma—and the desire for it."

I closed my eyes briefly. "So it isn’t... wrong? It isn’t something I should be worried about?"

"Not in the way you fear," he said. "Children often cling to the last intact emotional bridge they have. His world shattered—but that one word survived. It’s tied not to confusion, but to connection."

I pressed a hand to my chest, steadying the ache there. "But he only says it to him. Never to me."

"That’s not rejection," Dr. Chesten reassured me. "It’s instinct. In his mind, the word belongs to whoever feels like the anchor at that moment. The fact he says anything at all is extraordinary."

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

"That word," he continued, "is a thread. And we don’t cut threads. We use them. Later—much later—that thread can help him rebuild his language, his trust, his world."

Behind us, a soft shuffle sounded from my son’s room. I turned just in time to see him step into the doorway, his stuffed whale tucked under his arm, before he returned to the room and gently shut the door.

Dr. Chesten cleared his throat. "And I’m saying this because I know exactly the nature of your relationship." He stood up after fixing his things. My heart dropped at his words, and I instinctively shot up with him.

"What do you m-mean?" I asked, my voice stammering. He leaned over me, his warm breath brushing against my ear, sending a ripple of shivers through my body.

"This is advice from someone who knows my brother more than anyone. That man is not who you think he is. Do not fall for him." The world almost spun at a dizzying degree.

"What is the meaning of this?" a cold and deep voice rang out behind us.

It was my husband.