Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 16: The woman from that night.

>Venzrich

"Who the hell leaked the schedule of my flight arrival?" I snapped at my secretary, my voice sharp enough to cut through the cramped silence of the car.

Noel, who was still struggling with his seatbelt, jolted at the sound. He finally managed to click it in place and sat rigidly, like he expected the seat to swallow him whole if he dared move again.

I tugged at my tie, loosening it enough to breathe. The air felt thick—humid, almost—and I crossed my legs, leaning back as irritation prickled under my skin. Outside, muffled shrieks and excited cries rose above the steady thumping against the car doors.

The fans—at least that’s what they proudly called themselves—were relentless, like a swarm that had gotten a taste of sugar and refused to leave.

"I’m sorry, Young Master!" Noel blurted, voice trembling just slightly. His gaze darted to the window, then back to me through the side mirror. "It seems your fiancé unknowingly leaked your flight schedule to the media."

Of course she did.

"Tch." I clicked my tongue, irritation rolling through me in waves. "I only came to New York because Grandpa insisted I deliver the wedding invitation to Vale personally."

I let my head fall against the leather seat with a dull thud. "What a bother."

Six years. Six long years of trying every legal, logical, and emotional loophole to cancel this engagement. But that woman’s family was like ivy—once they got a grip, they only tightened. Worse, my own grandfather decided to play the villain this time: if I backed out, he’d hand his shares to his eldest illegitimate son, effectively turning him into the CEO overnight.

The thought alone made my jaw twitch. I carried that company in my back for years. There’s no way I’ll let that happen.

I raised my hand and brushed my thumb over my lower lip, a habit I’d unconsciously developed whenever I was thinking too hard. I paused as a scene from earlier replayed with startling clarity—small hands clutching someone’s coat, wide eyes staring up, a trembling little voice calling out something I hadn’t expected to hear.

Today was such a mess I’d nearly forgotten.

It’s been so long... I almost forgot about her.

That woman. The one who disappeared the morning after. The one I’d searched for harder than I’d ever admit out loud. And yet, after all my efforts, I couldn’t even find a trace—like she’d slipped through my fingers and vanished into smoke.

"Daddy, huh?" The word escaped before I even realized I’d spoken.

"Young Master?" Noel’s voice softened with concern. "Are you alright?" His eyes met mine through the mirror again, brows scrunched together like he wasn’t sure if he should worry or pretend not to notice.

"That woman I told you to look for," I said, clearing my throat. "Any news?"

My tone remained calm, but internally, something restless shifted inside me. The boy looked about six years old. There was a possibility—a very real, and very big possibility—that he was mine.

I stared at my hands, trying to connect the dots faster than my brain allowed.

"Pardon? You mean the black-haired, brown-eyed girl?" he clarified. I nodded slightly.

"I don’t think so, Young Master. Since you told us not to bother about it anymore."

I turned toward the window. The city was a blur of motion—cars weaving through lanes, pedestrians weaving through each other, the sky a pale backdrop. Everything outside looked too normal and too loud all at once, buzzing with a life I felt detached from.

"Not to bother, huh," I murmured.

I did remember telling them to stop searching. At the time, it felt pointless. We barely had anything solid between us—no relationship, no real understanding.

She could’ve been just a random woman I met when my sexual desire was louder than my reason. Yet some inexplicable instinct had dug its claws into me for years, refusing to let me forget her.

Did I actually care for her? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t even know what caring for someone was supposed to look like.

I was still drowning in thoughts when my phone buzzed. I answered without checking the caller ID.

"Yes?" I said.

"Baaaabe? Are you coming to our house after you land?"

That sticky, sugar-coated sweetness in her tone made my eyebrow twitch.

"No. I’m busy." I checked my watch, though there was absolutely nothing I needed to do immediately.

A groan dragged across the speaker, then she tried again—voice sickeningly sweet, the kind of sweetness that I’ve always hated. "But I need you to help me pick a wedding dress..."

I sighed quietly. A normal person—any sane person—would have given up after years of my indifference. But this woman was persistent to the point of delusion. She clung to me like I was the last branch on a cliff and she refused to fall, no matter how often I tried to pry her fingers off.

I had tolerated her invitations to dates, her attempts at intimacy, her exaggerated affection. We never formed a connection—not even a forced one. She clung anyway.

"Fine," I said flatly. "I’ll send my secretary to help you."

I hung up before she could respond. Then immediately dialed another number.

"Give me an update," I said as soon as the line connected. My voice dropped, more serious. Anything to escape this wedding. Especially now that there was a woman I actually found...interesting.

"Jeez! Can you loosen up a bit?" Mara groaned on the other end. "Am I your business partner? I’m your cousin! For the love of God!"

The rumble of her car engine echoed behind her. Speakerphone, probably.

"Are you driving?" I asked.

"Yes—wait, how did you know?"

I looked out the window again, unimpressed.

"A hunch. What’s the update?"

"I shouldn’t have asked," she muttered. "Anyway—she’s with me right now. Sleeping. Don’t worry, I already told her the job description."

I nodded. If Mara trusted her, that meant something. Mara didn’t trust people easily. Hell, she barely trusted me. Asking her had been a last resort, but if she said she’d handle it, she would.

"I see. Good. I’ll hang up now."

"Make sure you fulfill your prom—"

I pressed the end button before she could finish. I tolerated her because she was blood, but our personalities clashed like fire and gasoline. She was loud, reckless, and annoyingly perceptive. Unfortunately, she was also competent.

The promise I made her: I’d model for her company in exchange for her help sabotaging this marriage.

I remembered something and turned to Noel.

"What happened to the model who got into that accident?" I asked.

"Oh! He’s recovering steadily. It’s lucky you filled in, Young Master. The responses were even better than what we expected from the original model." His tone was so hopeful and cheerful it made my skin crawl.

That magazine shoot had been the spark that lit the wildfire. Now I couldn’t even get a moment of peace without being swarmed by obsessive fans. If I didn’t hate missing deadlines so much, I never would’ve volunteered to step in.

"I see," I said. "Find a replacement as soon as possible."

"Yes, Young Master." His voice carried disappointment so sharp it was insulting.

Then Noel straightened abruptly. "We’ve arrived, Young Master!"