Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 52: Grandpa?

>Mallory

"And... it’s done!" I cheered as I sprinkled the last bit of cheese over the pasta. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a quick version because it was already late—but it still smelled good. I smiled, nothing’s going right today but at least I got to make dinner.

I set up the plates and utensils on the kitchen counter, lining everything up neatly. We always ate here instead of the dining table. With only three of us, the counter felt easier... cozier somehow.

I hoped they weren’t too hungry yet.

I tugged off my apron, tossed it on its hook, and washed my hands carefully. Then I headed toward the living room, wiping my fingers on a towel as I called out, "Dinner’s rea—"

The words died in my throat.

They were both sleeping peacefully.

Venz was slumped on the sofa, leaning back like he had lost the battle to exhaustion. One arm wrapped around my son, holding him close even in his sleep. My son was curled against him, his small head resting on the man’s shoulder as if that spot was made for him.

I froze for a second, my chest warming in a way I didn’t expect.

Geez. If I wasn’t the one who gave birth to him, I wouldn’t believe they weren’t related. Same hair, same expression, even the same tiny crease between their brows. They looked like a perfect copy of each other.

And seeing them like that... it felt nice.

Maybe it was only temporary, maybe it wouldn’t last. But right now, standing here in the quiet living room with dinner ready and those two sleeping like that... we looked like a real family.

Carefully, I leaned over and slipped my arms between them. I worked slowly, inch by inch, peeling my son out of his hold so I wouldn’t wake either of them. My son mumbled something but didn’t fight it, letting his head fall against my shoulder as I lifted him.

Once he was safe in my arms, I let myself look at my husband again. With the kid gone, I could see his face better. His pouty lips. His features softer than usual. He look like a literal angel with the lamp light hitting his face. It was strange seeing him like this, he look almost gentle.

I reached out and gave his shoulder a small shake. "Hey, wake u—"

Before I could finish, his hand shot up and clamped around my wrist.

Hard yanking me towards him with force.

I gasped, stumbling a step back as my heartbeat jumped. The grip stung, firm enough that my fingers twitched.

His eyes snapped open, wild and sharp for a second before they focused on me. He looked just as shocked as I was, like he didn’t even know what he was doing. His hand loosened a little, but he still held on.

"Oh! I’m sorry!" I apologize instinctively, my body went completely cold, triggering some unpleasant memories. He went completely silent, brows knitting in confusion. "Uh... can you let go of my wrist? It hurts," I wince, trying to pry away my hand from his hold.

That seemed to snap him out of it. He released me at once, pulling his hand back to his chest like it had burned him.

"Next time, wake me up using my name," he warned, voice cold.

I just simply nodded, rubbing my painful wrist.

Right then, my son stirred. He lifted his head from my shoulder, rubbing his eyes. When he saw me cradling my wrist with my other hand, his sleepy face tightened. His small body straightened, and he reached out like he wanted to shield me, his arms wrapped around me in my chest, his eyes glaring at the man in front of me.

The man’s eyes widened, guilt hitting him all at once.

"No, no," I said quickly, forcing a smile as I smoothed my son’s hair. "It was just an accident. Everything’s fine."

But the air felt heavy after that.

We moved to the kitchen in silence. Plates were set down, but no one talked. My son was also giving him a cold shoulder and won’t listen no matter how much I tried to reassure him.

He looked like he acted out of instinct but I didn’t know he can let out that much murderous aura.

Forks scraped lightly against the ceramic, but nobody talked. The man barely touched his food, and my son kept glancing between us, worried for me, a glare at his direction.

Dinner wasn’t just quiet—it was awkward.

Uncomfortably awkward.

A few days passed, and the awkwardness somehow became part of our daily routine. It would’ve been easier if he just went back to work—at least then I’d have space to breathe—but he didn’t. He stayed home, every single day, sitting on the couch with his laptop like a giant watchdog pretending to be busy.

And worse, he kept appearing behind me. I’d be folding laundry, or wiping the counter, or washing the dishes, and suddenly he’d appear behind me. And then he’d leave before I could even get a word out.

It was starting to seriously annoy me.

Geez! He was blowing everything out of proportion for Christ’s sake!

Yes, he caught me off guard that day, but the way he kept acting—tip-toeing around me—made me feel like I’d committed some sort of crime.

Now I was starting to feel guilty for how I reacted, even though I didn’t think I had done anything wrong.

With a huff, I set the dishes I was washing a little harder than intended and shut off the faucet. Water dripped down my arms as I reached out to grab a towel.

"Wife?"

His deep voice came from directly behind me. I didn’t even need to look—his presence always felt like a giant shadow creeping over my shoulder. I started to turn around, but before I could, he lowered his head onto my shoulder, resting his forehead there as if he were exhausted.

My whole body stiffened. "Did I scare you?" he whispered. His voice wasn’t cold—just strained, like he’d been keeping everything bottled up for too long.

Did it really hit him that hard? I wouldn’t know. I was used to being handled roughly. I didn’t have a good sense anymore of what a "normal" line should be.

"I-It’s fine. I didn’t think it was such a big deal," I said. My wrist had actually hurt for two days, but I didn’t have the heart to bring that up when he looked like a kicked puppy.

I felt him open his mouth, probably ready to say something he’d been holding back, when the doorbell suddenly rang. The sound cut through the moment like a knife. His head lifted off my shoulder as he turned toward the hallway.

"I’ll get it!" I blurted, eager for the excuse to escape. I slipped out from under him and hurried to the door. Of course, he followed right behind me.

I twisted the latch and opened the door—and my eyes widened instantly.

Standing there was someone I hadn’t expected to see. Venz leaned forward slightly, trying to see who it was.

"Grandpa?" he blurted.