The Billionaire I Married by Mistake

21. APPEAR

|Katherine|

I laid everything out for him—every painful detail about the state our company was in. It wasn’t easy admitting how bad things had gotten, but he needed to hear it. After all, this marriage arrangement wouldn’t have even been on the table if we weren’t drowning in problems to begin with.

The irony? I was never supposed to marry him. That had never been part of the plan.

Yet here we were.

Not that I could complain. If marrying him meant giving our company a fighting chance, then I could live with it. I had to.

“And so,” I continued, steadying my voice, “I’ll be flying to Iloilo in three days for the final conference. It’s important. I can’t miss it.”

I glanced at him, gauging his reaction. He remained silent, eyes on the iPad in his hand, the blue glow of the screen casting sharp shadows across his face. I wasn’t sure if he was actually listening—or if he was already mentally buried in numbers and strategies. Still, I pressed on, hoping some part of him was taking all this in.

“I need to be prepared,” I said softly. “Honestly, if you have any advice, it would help. Anything at all.”

He didn’t speak, but I could tell he’d been listening. His stillness wasn’t dismissive—it was deliberate. The kind that comes with careful calculation.

When I finally fell quiet, letting the words settle between us, I waited. He didn’t look up. Didn’t even blink.

I leaned forward slightly. “Any thoughts?”

He didn’t flinch. Not even a twitch in the corner of his mouth. He was unreadable, his face carved from stone, his expression as calm as ever.

I stared at him…a little bit longer. So, this is how he looked when he was in his business-mode. I should’ve known better. It was like he was someone who wouldn’t reveal his thoughts easily. It felt like he processed the world like a machine, dissecting it into parts, weighing risks and outcomes.

When he finally responded, his voice was cool, almost mechanical. “Follow your lawyers. If they tell you not to answer something, then don’t. Let them speak for you when needed.”

That was it.

No warmth. No reassurance. Just a line of advice delivered like a closing statement in a boardroom.

He didn’t even glance up as he spoke, his attention fully fixed on the company reports Noel had sent over earlier that day. The same ones I’d been struggling to make sense of for weeks. Ever since Grandpa collapsed and was rushed to the hospital, Noel had taken it upon himself to send me everything—daily emails packed with attachments, each one more confusing than the last. He even left little comments and reminders, trying to walk me through the decisions I needed to make.

But the truth was, I barely understood any of it. The documents might as well have been written in another language. Trying to understand them was like trying to swallow a bitter pill—no matter how many times I reread them, they refused to make sense. But I had no choice. If I wanted to survive this, I had to force myself to digest it all.

I turned toward him again. I didn’t know him. But I got to know his reputation. His parents bragged about how he had helped expand their business, how he’d streamlined operations and opened new ventures across the country. They claimed he had a mind for profit, that he could turn losses into assets without breaking a sweat.

Maybe that’s why they were so eager for him to marry…to force balance into a life that had always been tilted toward ambition.

If he was half as good as they claimed… then maybe it was worth the risk to lean on him, just a little.

“Okay… but really?” I asked, my voice lighter, more teasing. “Not even a side comment? No lecture about the reports?”

Finally, he let out a breath—a long, quiet one—and set the iPad down on the coffee table. His fingers slid off the device with an almost reluctant grace, as if it pained him to stop working. He leaned back against the sofa, arms resting across the cushions, and I instinctively sat up straighter, the space between us suddenly feeling colder, heavier.

“I can’t give you an opinion in one sitting, Katherine,” he said, his voice low. “There’s too much here.”

I nodded slowly, biting my lower lip. “Right. Of course.”

I reached for the iPad and started adjusting the settings, trying to look unfazed. “What’s your email? I’ll send you everything. Don’t worry, I won’t expect you to drop everything for this. Just… take a look when you can.”

It was a quiet offer—one wrapped in uncertainty, pride, and a touch of desperation. I didn’t expect him to say yes. But still, I hoped he would.