The Billionaire I Married by Mistake

9. FAIR

|Katherine|

Gianna’s arrival came like a whisper in the night—but the kind that stirred everything into motion. The gates creaked open, the lights in the hallways blinked awake one by one, and the quiet rhythm of the mansion broke into a soft frenzy. Despite the flurry of footsteps and hushed voices, my heart felt lighter the moment I saw her.

She stepped inside, looking slightly worn from the abrupt travel but still very much herself. We met halfway across the marble floor and embraced tightly, without a word at first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the airport,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to see her face.

Gianna gave me that signature smile—gentle, understanding. “It’s okay, Kat,” she said. “This trip wasn’t planned, remember? I just showed up. I didn’t expect a red carpet.”

She glanced around, her gaze landing on Manang Lolit and the other housemaids who had gathered near the foyer, clearly unsure whether to stay or excuse themselves.

“I’m sorry for causing a disturbance,” Gianna added softly.

I followed her gaze, then turned to our ever-reliable mayordoma.

“Manang, can you prepare the guest room for my friend?” I asked politely.

Without missing a beat, she nodded and motioned for the rest of the staff to follow her. They quietly slipped away, leaving behind a calmer silence.

I led Gianna toward the dining area, instinctively thinking she might need something—water, tea, maybe just a place to breathe. One of the maids followed us at a discreet distance, always anticipating, just in case.

We stopped by the kitchen island, where the warm light felt less intimidating than the rest of the house. She settled onto a stool while I walked to the sink and reached for a glass.

“How are you holding up?” she asked gently, watching me.

I didn’t answer immediately. The question hit harder than expected.

I filled the glass, placing it in front of her with care. She didn’t even look at it. Her eyes stayed locked on me, searching, waiting. There was no judgment in her gaze, only concern—and something else. Patience.

I finally met her eyes, but only for a second. I looked away, then slowly sat down beside her.

“I... I don’t know what to do anymore, Gie,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It feels like I’m slowly…unraveling. I keep trying to find the other choices, but every choice feels like the wrong one.”

And that was all it took to open the floodgates.

I told her everything.

The chaos of the past few days, the things I’d been forced to navigate alone. Why I missed our friend’s wedding. Why I had disappeared from everyone’s radar without warning. Why I was suddenly clinging to the fragile hope that having her here might help me stay afloat.

Because I needed someone. The one person who wouldn’t try to fix everything with rushed advice or shallow comfort. The one person who might help me untangle the mess, even if it meant just sitting beside me in the dark while I tried to find my way back to the light.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been talking. Minutes? An hour? Time blurred into a dull haze as I poured everything out to her—every thought, every fear, every sharp edge of the things I hadn’t dared say out loud until now. Giana didn’t interrupt once. She just sat there, listening, her silence steady and comforting, like an anchor holding me in place while I unraveled.

And for that alone, I was beyond grateful.

When I finally stopped, there was a long, stretching pause. The weight in my chest hadn’t disappeared entirely, but it had eased—just enough to make it feel like I could breathe again. Like I wasn’t drowning.

I exhaled slowly. “After what Noel said… I think I just need some space,” I murmured, my voice rough. “I need time to process everything. To think.”

I looked to Giana, half-expecting her to offer advice or even argue. But instead, she leaned forward without a word and pulled me into her arms. The hug was tight and warm, no hesitation. She held me like someone who knew I needed holding, even if I didn’t ask for it. Her hand began to gently pat my back, the gesture soft, grounding.

“I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to take your problems away,” she said quietly, her voice low with sincerity. “But I do know you’ll get through this, Kat. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

That was it—the moment something inside me cracked open. Her words didn’t magically fix anything, but they found their way into the hollow parts of me, the places I’d tried to seal shut. I couldn’t stop the sob that escaped me, couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter. Because it did.

The next morning, Giana didn’t give me a choice. She practically yanked the blanket off me, pulled me out of bed, and announced that we were going out.

“Come on,” she said brightly, “you’re not spending another day in bed staring at the ceiling. Show me around this place.”

I groaned but let her drag me to the shower anyway. There was something about her energy that made it hard to resist. She was genuinely excited about exploring the town, and her enthusiasm only doubled when she found out it was close to the sea.

“You have beach resorts around here?” she asked, eyes wide with delight.

I nodded. “Yeah. And we actually own one, just a little further down the coast.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s amazing. But... maybe let’s not stay somewhere too private. I think it’d be better to be around people—keep your mind busy.”

And honestly, she was right.

So we booked a room at a resort in the next town over—nothing too fancy, just something comfortable with a view of the ocean and enough noise to remind me I wasn’t alone.

The next three days passed in a blur of salt air, loud music, and forced laughter. We didn’t talk about my problems—not at first. We swam, danced at beach parties under string lights, wandered through small local markets, and struck up conversations with tourists. Giana, of course, had no shame walking up to complete strangers, and I played along, grateful for the distraction.

Still, there were quiet moments. Lingering pauses between activities, late-night walks along the shore when the crowd had thinned, and our shoulders brushed in silence. Moments when the conversation drifted back to the thing I was trying so hard to forget.

Especially tonight.

It was her last evening here.

By tomorrow morning, Gie would be on a flight back to Manila, her three-day leave already coming to an end. The thought made my chest tighten. Three days wasn’t nearly enough, but somehow, she’d managed to make them feel longer—calmer. She hadn’t come here to fix anything. She just came to sit beside me while my world spun out of control. And for that, I was quietly, achingly grateful.

We were sitting on the patio, wrapped in the warm glow of the setting sun and the soft clink of ice in our glasses. Gie swirled her martini before taking a sip, her expression unreadable.

“In the end,” she said, voice casual but laced with something heavier, “I don’t really mind marrying someone if it means saving the company… just like you, Kat.”

I turned to her slowly, caught off guard by the blunt honesty in her tone. That wasn’t what she’d said before.

“I thought you were against the marriage, Gie,” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one throwing a fit three nights ago, telling me there were better ways to fight this?”

She laughed, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, well, that was three days ago. And three days in a crumbling empire feels like three years in real time.”

I gave her a sideways look, unsure if I should take her seriously. She sighed and shifted toward me, her gaze more focused now—more sincere.

“Look,” she said, her voice softer, “we’re not living in medieval times anymore. If the marriage doesn’t work out—if the guy your grandfather picked ends up being a disaster—you can file for annulment. It’s not the end of the world. And… maybe this is your fair share of sacrifice.”

She hesitated, her brows pinching together. “I hope that doesn’t offend you?”

My smile faltered. I wasn’t sure if it was offense or something deeper, something more raw. Maybe it was the sting of knowing she was right. Maybe it was just the sting of reality finally setting in.

But Gianna wasn’t done.

“Just hear me out, okay?” she said gently, sensing my silence. “I’ve been thinking about it since I got here. And I know how hard you’ve been trying to hold everything together. The truth is, Kat… your company’s not just struggling—it’s sinking. Slowly, yes. But it’s happening. And I think what you need right now isn’t just hope or time—you need momentum. A turning point. Something to stop the bleeding.”

She looked at me, her eyes steady. “Maybe—just maybe—this marriage could be that push.”

I didn’t respond right away. I just sat there, letting her words echo in my head like the fading hum of a storm.

"Once the company’s back on solid ground and things are actually manageable again, then you can walk away. File for annulment if that’s still what you want." Her tone was casual, almost too casual, like she hadn’t just handed me a life decision wrapped in legal jargon. "It’s your fair share of sacrifice. For the company. For your grandfather.”

Then she leaned in, eyes glinting with playful mischief. “But hey—what if the old man actually picked right? What if the marriage works out and you accidentally fall in love? Instant husband. Instant love life. Problem solved.”

She squealed like a teenager, the sound slicing through the weight of her earlier words. The seriousness was gone, shattered like glass under her laughter. It was classic Giana—deflect the heavy with humor, soften reality with charm.

I found myself laughing too, even though there wasn’t really anything funny about it. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe I just needed to pretend for one second that this wasn’t my life unraveling in slow motion.

Moments later, her focus was completely stolen away by some guy who approached our table, flashing a confident smile as he introduced himself. She leaned in, giggling, tossing her hair like the conversation we’d just had never existed. Just like that, my marriage, my ailing grandfather, and the future of the company vanished from her thoughts.

I stayed quiet, sipping the last of my drink, her words lingering long after her attention drifted. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, she was right. I hated that she was right. It was a bitter kind of truth—one that pressed against my pride, but one I couldn’t ignore.

The next morning, I drove her to the airport. We barely talked, but I knew she meant well. After her flight took off, I didn’t head home. I stayed in the airport, sitting by the massive windows as planes came and went, her words replaying in my head like a looping voicemail I couldn’t delete.

The marriage. The company. My grandfather.

It all weighed down on me.

I was still there, lost in thought, when my phone started buzzing in my hand. It was Noel.

For a moment, I hesitated. I didn’t want to deal with anything. But something in me stirred—a sinking feeling I couldn’t quite shake. It might be about Grandpa, I thought.

So I answered. And I was… f*****g right.

“Miss Kat!” Noel’s voice came through the line in a rush of panic. “It’s Sir Anton—he went into cardiac arrest again!”

It felt like the floor disappeared beneath me. My chest tightened as fear wrapped around my ribs like barbed wire. I barked at the driver to take me to the hospital, not caring how fast or reckless it was. Everything between the airport and the hospital blurred—the traffic, the roads, the noise. All I could think was: Not again. Please, not again.

When we arrived, I didn’t walk—I ran. My heels pounded against the hospital tiles as I darted through the corridors, ignoring the curious stares of nurses and visitors. I slammed through the door to Grandpa’s room.

Noel was already there, standing at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Beside him, a nurse worked quickly, her eyes focused on the monitor, hands steady despite the urgency in the air.

He looked up when he heard me.

“Noel! What happened?” my voice cracking as I rushed toward him. His expression was tight with exhaustion, his shoulders rising with a slow, weary breath before he finally let his arms fall limply to his sides.

“Thankfully… he’s stable again,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “They managed to save him.”

Relief surged through me—but it was fleeting, fragile. I turned toward the hospital bed just as the nurse quietly stepped aside, allowing me a full view of Grandpa.

My breath hitched. His skin looked pale, papery. His body so still it frightened me. It was as if life itself had taken a pause, waiting on the edge of something darker.

My throat tightened. The lump I’d been holding in finally gave way, and tears spilled freely down my cheeks.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

A deep exhale came from beside me. Noel stepped closer, wrapping his arms around me without saying a word. I leaned into him, trembling as I clung to the only steady thing in the room. My sobs came harder now—raw and messy and aching. I had almost lost him. Again.

And once more… I hadn’t been there.

Damn it.

How many more times was I going to let this happen? How long would I keep choosing to stay in my own bubble—too selfish, too stubborn, too busy pretending everything was fine when the most important person in my life was slipping further and further away?

What the hell was I doing?

Grandpa was standing at death’s door, and I… I was still clinging to my pride. To my independence. To my comfort. As if any of those things would matter if I lost him.

In the quiet of my spiraling thoughts, Giana’s voice came rushing back.

“Just get married for now. At least until your company can stand on its own. Once things are stable, then you can file for annulment. Like I said—it’s your fair share of sacrifice for your company… and for your grandfather.”

I had dismissed her words before. But now? Standing here, in this cold, sterile room, with the person I loved most clinging to life by a thread… Maybe she was right.

Maybe this marriage—this deal I kept resisting—was my share of the sacrifice. Maybe it was the simplest way to protect everything Grandpa had built. Everything he cherished.

Maybe it was the only way left.

What I wanted no longer mattered. My principles, my fears, my emotions—they were all just noise. Because if I lost him, none of it would mean anything.