The Billionaire I Married by Mistake

6. WAYS

|Katherine|

“The death toll from a collapsed under construction multi story building of Lopez Builders Corporation rose to eight as search...”

The television barely made it past the opening line of the news before I grabbed the remote and shut it off. The anchor’s voice, sharp and emotionless, sliced through the air like a blade. I couldn’t bear to hear another word. Just a few more seconds and I might’ve completely lost it. The weight of everything was suffocating—no wonder Grandpa’s heart gave out so suddenly.

I turned my gaze to the hospital bed where he lay, motionless, as pale as the sheets that covered him. He hadn’t woken up since he was rushed here. Three days had passed. Three long, sleepless days of waiting, hoping, and praying that he would stir. Every beep from the heart monitor felt like a cruel metronome to my anxiety.

The doctors had done their rounds, assuring me in soft, rehearsed tones that his condition was stable. They spoke with practiced calm, but I could still feel the uncertainty behind their eyes. Their reassurances were like paper over cracks in the wall—thin, temporary, barely holding.

I exhaled a slow, shaky breath and sank back into the couch in the corner of the room. My fingers moved to my temples, rubbing gently in a futile attempt to dull the pounding in my skull. Thoughts crashed into one another like waves in a storm.

One of our buildings—still under construction—had collapsed. Just crumbled into dust and steel and debris, leaving behind chaos and casualties. And now, the company was under fire. Investigators were circling like vultures. The engineers, the contractors, even our suppliers—every name tied to that project was being dragged into the light.

Noel, thank God, had stepped in immediately. He and our legal team had been working non-stop, fielding questions from reporters and officials alike. I hadn’t even had to speak to anyone yet. And honestly? I didn’t think I could. If someone shoved a microphone in my face or demanded answers right now, I’d probably freeze.

What could I even say? What explanation could I possibly give for something I didn’t understand myself?

The sudden news of my grandfather’s heart attack, coupled with the revelation that our company was on the brink of collapse, was simply too much for me to handle. I felt like the ground had been ripped from beneath me. My thoughts spiraled, tangled in panic and uncertainty. What should I do first? Should I rush to focus on Grandpa’s recovery? Or try to step into a world I barely understood and somehow salvage the company?

But who was I kidding?

What could I possibly contribute to a business I had never been prepared to manage? My days revolved around brunches, fashion shows, and perfectly curated travel itineraries. I wasn’t cut out for boardrooms, legal documents, or financial disasters. The idea that I could step in and fix this mess was almost laughable.

Almost.

A frustrated groan escaped my lips as I sank into the stiff hospital chair. The weight of expectation, fear, and helplessness bore down on me like an invisible boulder. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t strong enough. I just wanted him to wake up—to open his eyes and make sense of the chaos, the way he always did. Grandpa was the anchor of our family, the one person who never faltered.

Sitting straighter, I reached out and wrapped both hands around his. His skin was warm, toughened from years of hard work, yet somehow still gentle. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his hand, swallowing the lump in my throat as I studied his still face.

“Please wake up, Grandpa,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a quiet desperation. “We need you... I need you.”

The doctors had offered slivers of hope, saying he might regain consciousness within a few days. I clung to their words as though they were a lifeline. Because once he woke up—once he was here—everything would fall into place. He would guide us through this storm. He always did.

I needed to believe that.

On the fourth day of his hospitalization, I found myself glued to the screen, watching a live press conference led by Noel and our legal team. They had insisted I didn’t need to be there in person—that they could handle it. And I trusted them.

Before the conference, they’d walked me through everything—well, as much as I could understand. Legal strategies, public statements, contingency plans. Most of it sounded like a foreign language to me, but they explained it with calm confidence, and I nodded along, grateful that someone knew what they were doing.

As I watched the live feed, my chest swelled—not just with nerves, but with something else.

Awe.

Noel stood at the podium, composed and articulate, flanked by our sharp-suited attorneys. He didn’t just speak—he commanded. And in that moment, I realized something: my grandfather might have been lying unconscious in a hospital bed, but his strength was still present in every word Noel spoke. In every decision the team made.

Noel wasn’t just a loyal employee. He was a force—steady, prepared, and unshakable. Grandpa had chosen well. I didn’t know where he had found someone like Noel, or how he had earned such unwavering loyalty, but I felt it.

For a fleeting second, I found myself wishing—truly wishing—that I had someone like Noel permanently by my side. If I ever did take over the company, I’d need someone like him: calm in the chaos, steadfast when everything else felt like it was unraveling. There was something oddly comforting in that idea. The thought that when the weight of expectations began to suffocate me, there’d be someone nearby who wouldn’t flinch. Someone who knew how to carry a storm without making a sound.

The press conference dragged on for nearly three exhausting hours. Cameras, questions, statements—it all blurred together in a haze of flashing lights and forced composure. And that was only the beginning. The real work started the moment the microphones were packed away.

The next stage required the official presence of the company’s acting president. And that, apparently, was me.

Both Noel and the legal team had made it clear—I needed to show face, to prepare for the upcoming wave of appearances, inquiries, and damage control. There was no more hiding. No more waiting.

Just the idea of standing in front of the media made my heart thud uncomfortably against my ribs. My palms were clammy, my thoughts spiraling. I wasn’t ready. Not even close.

If only Grandpa would wake up… if only he could speak. Then maybe I’d know what to do. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like I was being asked to walk across a minefield barefoot and blindfolded.

By the time Noel returned to the hospital later that evening, I could see the day had taken its toll on him. His steps were slower, heavier. His suit was wrinkled at the sleeves, his collar slightly askew. He looked like he hadn’t taken a breath since the conference ended.

“Noel,” I said, my voice soft but sincere as he dropped down on the sofa across from me, “thank you—for everything you did today.”

He managed a tired but genuine smile. I reached forward and placed a cup of coffee in front of him. Steam curled up from the surface. He nodded, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you, Miss Kat.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he added after a moment, lifting the cup with both hands. Still, there was a weariness in his voice that tugged at me. I filed a mental note away—one I’d act on the moment Grandpa recovered. Noel had more than earned a raise. Probably a vacation, too! He did so much already!

“I’m really grateful Grandpa has someone like you,” I said, my voice lower, more reflective. “Someone loyal. Someone he can trust.”

Noel took a small sip of coffee before glancing up at me. His expression softened. The fine lines around his eyes—etched there from years of service, stress, and maybe a little worry—seemed deeper tonight. But behind them, there was quiet strength.

He had been with our family for as long as I could remember. Always present. Always composed. In many ways, Noel was part of the family, the kind of person whose loyalty ran deeper than contracts or salaries.

We talked briefly about the conference—what went well, what didn’t, what I needed to brace myself for next. I told him I had watched the live stream from Grandpa’s hospital room, and he, ever the professional, reminded me—firmly—that I would need to be the one at the next one.

The legal team would help me craft my statements, and there’d be mock interviews to prep me for whatever questions might come flying from the press. I didn’t like any of it—but I knew he was right. Rehearsal was the only way I’d even survive the next appearance, let alone own it.

A silence settled between us after that. Not awkward, just... heavy. The kind of silence that held more than words.

He hadn’t come just to report what went down at the press conference—there was something more, something serious about the company that he needed to talk about.

“Are you ready, Miss Kat?” His gaze held mine for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was gentle but firm.

I felt the lump rise in my throat, the same way it always did when fear brushed up against duty. But I didn’t look away.

“Yes,” I said, my voice calm but carrying the weight of conviction.

He shifted in his seat, sitting up straighter, his palms pressed flat against his thighs like he was bracing himself for a storm. I could see it in the way his shoulders squared—the way someone does before delivering news they know will change everything.

“Sir Anton had already spoken to me about his plans to save the company, Miss Kat,” he began, his words deliberate, careful. “It was before the heart attack. Long before.”

I nodded silently, encouraging him to continue.

His gaze faltered for a moment. “I’m not entirely sure if I even have the right to say any of this,” he admitted, his voice tinged with hesitation. “But I’ve been with this company for so long… it’s more than just a job to me now. I’ve watched it rise, and now I’m watching it fall—and I can’t just stand by and do nothing. So… I think you deserve to know what Sir Anton was planning. Maybe it’ll help you decide what to do next.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Tell me.”

He drew in a breath. “The real reason he called you home… was to tell you the truth about the company. About just how bad things have become.”

The air left my lungs in a sharp, involuntary inhale.

Deep down, I had known. Ever since I came back here and saw the news of the collapsed project, the tension in every phone call Grandpa had made before this… they weren’t just coincidence. He’d been trying to warn me. Trying to prepare me. But I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to.

Because if I admitted it was real, then I’d have to face it.

And now, here I was—no longer able to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Noel had gone quiet again. I watched him closely, sensing the shift in the air between us. His shoulders slumped slightly, and a shadow crossed his face.

“What is it, Noel?” I asked, the question slipping out more urgently than I intended. “You’re holding something back.”

He looked up at me with tired eyes, the kind of eyes that had seen too much but still carried the burden of loyalty. After a long breath, he finally said it.

“He told me there’s still a way to save the company,” he said slowly. “But… he believed only you could do it.”

Something skipped in my chest. “Me?”

I felt a strange flicker—hope, maybe, or disbelief. Maybe both. “What did he mean by that?”

Only I could save it? It didn’t make sense. I wasn’t some corporate genius, and I certainly didn’t have the experience Grandpa did. But in that moment, my fear twisted into something else—something deeper.

Determination.

Despite everything, Grandpa had believed in me. Trusted me. And I wasn’t going to turn my back on that. I didn’t know how I’d do it, but I was willing to try. I had to.

Then Noel said the words that hit like a punch to the chest.

“Sir Anton said… the only way to save the company is for you to marry the man he chose for you.”

The room went still.

I felt my jaw slacken, lips parting in disbelief. For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

Ma…rry?

The word echoed in my mind, absurd and unreal. I stared at Noel, waiting for him to take it back, to laugh and tell me it was some sort of twisted joke.

But his face was solemn. Unmoving.

And I was stunned into silence.