The Billionaire I Married by Mistake

7. NIGHT

|Katherine|

“WHAT?!”

The word flew out of my mouth before I could stop it, loud and sharp. My body reacted instinctively—I shot up from my seat, heart racing, completely stunned by what Noel had just said.

“What do you mean I have to get married?” I demanded, my voice rising with disbelief. “And how the hell is that supposed to save the company?”

Noel didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, watching me with a weariness that suddenly made him look years older. His shoulders drooped, as if my reaction had drained what little energy he had left. He leaned back into the chair with a soft sigh, and a faint, almost bitter smile ghosted across his lips.

“That’s what Sir Anton’s been insisting on, Miss Kat,” he said quietly, his tone edged with resignation. “He’s been repeating it for weeks now. Ever since the company started sinking six months ago, he’s been trying everything—selling assets, negotiating with investors, cutting costs… but nothing’s worked. Problems kept piling up, and now the board is losing confidence. One by one, the shareholders are pulling out. The only ones still holding on are the old friends of your grandfather—the people who still believe in the name your family built.”

A lump formed in my throat, thick and tight. I tried to swallow, but it didn’t go down. My legs wobbled slightly, the shock knocking the strength right out of me. Somewhere inside, I could tell Noel wasn’t exaggerating. He wasn’t the type. And besides, there was no reason for him to lie to me—especially not about something this big.

Slowly, numbly, I lowered myself back into my seat, the weight of his words sinking in like a stone. My thoughts swirled, too scattered to grasp, while Noel’s voice continued in the background, steady but heavy, filling the silence I could no longer break.

“Then someone suggested to Sir Anton that a merger with another company might be the only way to keep yours from going under,” Noel continued carefully. “Sir Anton gave it serious thought. He eventually found an investor—but there was a condition attached.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, and then his eyes met mine.

“The deal would only be finalized if you agreed to marry the investor’s son, Miss Kat.”

I felt the air rush out of my lungs, sharp and heavy, as if I’d just been struck in the chest.

My heart pounded as I searched Noel’s expression for any sign that this was some kind of cruel misunderstanding.

“Did Grandpa…” My voice broke, and I had to swallow hard before I could finish. “Did he really agree to that?”

Noel’s shoulders rose with a slow, steady breath. His expression was grave, almost apologetic.

“Yes, Miss Kat. He confided everything in me. He intended to tell you himself when you finally returned. And so, when things happened, I thought… you needed to know now. You deserve the time to think this through,”

His words sank into me like stones in deep water. The fire I had carried with me—the hope, the determination to fix what was broken in our company—it all flickered out in an instant. Replaced by disbelief.

I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

How could Grandpa—of all people—make a decision like this? Why would he even consider offering my hand in marriage as part of a business transaction? Was saving the company really worth that much to him?

Were there no other investors? No alternatives that didn’t involve sacrificing me like some bargaining chip on a corporate chessboard?

I wasn’t some pawn.

I didn’t need to marry anyone to prove my worth. Certainly not a stranger. Not the son of a man who thought he could buy loyalty with marriage.

No.

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping softly against the floor. Noel blinked, startled, but said nothing as I took a step back. I managed a tight, polite nod—half an apology, half a silent plea for space.

My eyes drifted to the hospital bed, to my grandfather lying there, unconscious and unaware of the storm his choices had stirred.

The tears stung unexpectedly, not from sorrow—but from helpless, seething frustration.

I clenched my fists at my sides.

I didn’t come home for this.

And I didn’t come home to be married off like a solution to a financial crisis.

I… don’t want to get married.

Sure, I could be a tease. I flirted sometimes, laughed a little too long when men complimented me, played along with the banter even when I wasn’t entirely interested. It was easy to let people believe I didn’t take things seriously. But beneath the playful surface, there was a line I never crossed.

Because despite what people might assume about me, I still believed in the sanctity of marriage.

I grew up watching my parents love each other with quiet, enduring grace. There was laughter in our home, gentle touches exchanged when they thought no one was watching, whispered conversations at dinner after I had gone to bed. Their love was steady—unshakable. It shaped the way I saw the world.

And Grandpa… he used to tell me stories about Grandma all the time when I was little. His eyes would light up with every memory, his voice soft with affection. He adored her, even long after she passed. You don’t grow up in a house like that without believing in love.

Real love.

So no matter how casual or confident I may seem, the truth is—I’ve always dreamed of marrying someone I truly love. Not out of convenience. Not out of pressure. But because I couldn’t imagine living without him.

I bit my lower lip, trying to keep the frustration from spilling over. But it was already rising like a tide in my chest, threatening to crash.

I turned slowly, my gaze finding Noel. He remained on his seat quietly, still eyes on me—not judging, just waiting. Maybe he thought I’d storm out of the hospital room, or that I’d stay and change my mind again. Maybe he saw how torn I was.

“Please,” I said, my voice softer now, more fragile. “Make sure the nurses take good care of Grandpa while I’m gone, Noel. I just… I need a few days. I need space to breathe. To think.”

Noel nodded gently, always calm, always dependable. “Don’t worry, Miss Kat. I’ll stay with Sir Anton and make sure everything runs smoothly. Take all the time you need. I’ll update you every day.”

I gave him a grateful smile, one that barely reached my eyes, then quietly stepped out of the room, letting the door shut behind me with a soft click.

The hallway was colder than I remembered, or maybe it was just the weight of what Noel had said that left a chill in my bones.

Marriage.

A word that once filled me with hope now felt heavier than ever. Because I was standing on the edge of something I didn’t fully understand—with a man I barely knew.

I needed to talk to someone. I needed clarity. A lifeline. If I let all of this fester inside me, I knew I’d unravel.

I pulled out my phone and found Giana’s name. My best friend. My voice of reason. The one person who knew me better than I knew myself.

I called her. One ring. Two. Three.

[“Hello, Kat! Finally, you called!”]

Giana’s voice burst through the speaker the moment she picked up—relief and panic tangled in every syllable. I could almost see her pacing in her room, probably still in her pajamas, phone clutched tightly in her hand.

[“What happened?”] she rushed on. [“We freaked out when you didn’t show up since the wedding. Then the news broke—we saw everything! We kept calling, texting—nothing. We even went to your condo. Manang Pasing said you might’ve gone home to your province… because of your grandfather.”]

She paused just long enough to catch her breath before the words tumbled out again, quick and raw. [“How are you? How’s Lolo Anton? Are you okay? Do you want me to come to you? I’ll file my leave right now—I swear, I will!”]

Her voice cracked at the edges—urgent, full of warmth and worry—and it hit me like a wave. I hadn’t realized just how much I needed to hear a familiar voice until that very second. My chest clenched, the knot in my throat growing heavier with every word she said. It was too much. All of it.

Grandpa’s heart attack. The pressure from the board. The company I was supposed to inherit now slipping through our fingers.

And now this—being handed over like a pawn in a marriage deal I never agreed to. All for the sake of family. All because I was supposed to be the strong one.

I bit my lip hard, hoping the sting would hold back the tears threatening to fall. But it didn’t.

Just hearing her voice—just knowing someone out there still cared enough to panic—broke something in me. I was tired. So damn tired.

“I’m…” My voice wavered. “I’m in Iloilo.”

A sharp intake of breath echoed on the other end of the line. [“Kat…”]

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, barely able to hold it together. “I couldn’t— I didn’t know how to explain everything.”

[“Do you want me to come?”] she asked gently. [“I’ll book a ticket right now. I mean it.”]

I didn’t answer immediately. Earlier, when I stepped out of the hospital, I’d looked up at the moon—so still, so far away—and I felt everything I had been holding in finally give way.

And now, I couldn’t stop the sob that tore through me.

“Giana…” I whispered, the sound of her name escaping between trembling breaths.

I didn’t even get to say what I needed. The words wouldn’t come. But she heard everything in my silence.

She always did.

[“I’m coming,”] she said, fierce and unwavering. And before I could say anything else, the line went dead. She had already hung up.

I sat just outside the hospital entrance, letting the weight of the day press down on me like a second skin. The night was still. For a moment, I let myself breathe—just breathe—before I finally raised my hand to flag down a passing cab.

Giana had lent me some money. Without it, I wouldn’t have even made it out of the hospital lobby. I had nothing—not a single peso to my name. Not even enough to pay for my cab to go home.

I climbed into the cab and gave the driver our address, the one etched so deeply into my memory that I could recite it in my sleep. It was nearly an hour away from the city, far from the hospital where my grandfather lay hooked to machines and fading.

As the cab pulled away, I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the city pass in streaks of light and shadow. The world outside was a blur of neon signs, unfamiliar buildings, and distant silhouettes. And for the first time since arriving, I noticed it—how everything had changed.

The city no longer looked like the one I had once known. Back then, it had been quieter, simpler. A scattering of low buildings and winding streets,. But now? Towering glass skyscrapers pierced the night sky, reflecting the city’s ambition and hunger. The roads were wider, busier. Everything moved faster. Everyone moved faster.

The world had gone on without me.

Time had passed—slipped right through my fingers while I wasn’t paying attention.

By the time the cab pulled to a stop, the moon was high overhead. I stepped out into the night and found myself standing at the beginning of a road I knew by heart. The narrow path leading to our family estate was just as I remembered it, lined with trees that bent gently with the wind, as if they, too, remembered.

And then I saw it—the mansion.

The tall, classical columns stood proud just as they had in my childhood. The gates, still heavy with wrought iron, creaked open slowly as I approached. The gardens on either side were quieter now, less wild, more tamed. But I could still picture them as they once were—alive with color, overflowing with flowers, and echoing with the sound of my younger self’s laughter.

Memories hit me like a wave.

I turned my gaze away before they could fully pull me under and stepped across the threshold of the house.

“Mam Kat!” a voice called out, filled with a kind of joy that cracked around the edges. I looked up to see familiar faces rushing toward me from the foyer—old household staff, some smiling wide, others already crying.

“Mam Kat! We missed you so much! It’s been years!” cried Manang Lolit, her voice trembling with emotion.

I stared at her, stunned. The years had etched themselves gently into her face, but the most striking change was the streaks of gray in her once-black hair. My chest tightened.

How long had it really been?

More than a decade. More than enough time for everything to change—and for me to forget what it felt like to belong here.

One by one, the old household staff—those who had been part of this home for as long as I could remember—gathered around me, their faces etched with concern and quiet curiosity. They asked gently, almost hesitantly, if I knew about my grandfather’s condition.

I nodded, offering a calm but weary smile. “That’s why I came home,” I told them. “I needed to be here.”

There wasn’t much more to say. The room fell into a solemn hush as the weight of unspoken memories lingered between us. After a few more words exchanged—brief, polite, and heavy with emotion—I quietly excused myself.

“I think I’ll rest for now,” I said softly.

Manang Lolit, still the same as I remembered—steady, kind, always watching over me like a second mother—offered to walk me upstairs. I nodded, grateful.

We ascended the staircase slowly, our footsteps echoing against the marble floors. The hallway on the second floor stretched ahead, unchanged. The same muted paintings hung in their rightful places. Time hadn’t touched this part of the house. It was like stepping back into a memory.

A lump formed in my throat as my gaze fell on a spot just a few steps away—right there, just beside the antique console table. That was where I had collapsed. The day I found out I’d lost them—both my parents, gone in a breath, and my world had cracked open like shattered glass.

“We make sure your room is cleaned every day,” Manang Lolit said, her voice gentle, motherly. “So you can rest well whenever you come home.”

I turned to her, my expression softening. I gave her a tired, grateful smile. “Thank you, Manang.”

She returned it with a knowing look, then turned quietly and made her way back down the hall, leaving me alone in front of the door.

I hesitated for a beat before reaching for the knob and stepping inside.

The light clicked on with a familiar hum, and as the room lit up, I felt my breath catch.

Nothing had changed.

The same cream-colored curtains swayed gently by the window. The same books, slightly tilted on the shelf. Even the scent—a subtle mix of lavender and old wood—was exactly as I remembered. My childhood, my grief, my dreams… they were all still here, like forgotten ghosts waiting in silence.

My chest tightened as emotion surged through me, sharp and unexpected. I bit down on my lower lip, blinking fast.

Slowly, I made my way to the bed. It welcomed me like an old friend, soft and familiar. I sank into it, curling slightly on my side as the past clung to me like a second skin.

I reached up and laid an arm over my eyes, trying to block out the light, the room, the ache.

“I hope… all of this is just a dream,” I whispered into the quiet.

But even in the silence, I knew better. This was real. All of it. And somehow, I had to find a way to face what came next.