Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 34: Unexpected Visitor or Doctor?

>Mallory

"Thank you so much for your help." I gratefully chimed at the cleaning lady in her forties as she made her way to the door, a woven basket full of cleaning tools balanced carefully in her hand.

She comes here thrice a week to assist with the housework and the laundry. She simply smiled and offered me a shallow, polite bow before she finally went on her way.

"Anyway, I better continue what I’m doing..." I muttered to myself as I stared at the assorted pile of ingredients arranged in front of me.

I’m planning to cook lunch while my son is still comfortably preoccupied entertaining himself.

The doorbell rang while I was mid–washing the vegetables, its soft chime echoing delicately throughout the entire house. I wiped my damp palms on my apron before removing it and hurried toward the front entrance, my footsteps sounding louder than usual against the polished marble floor.

Who could it possibly be?

When I opened the door, a man with golden-blonde hair and striking blue eyes—his shadow towering overwhelmingly over me—stood framed against the afternoon light. His demeanor appeared calm, his posture perfectly straight yet carrying a subtle gentleness. He gave me a small, composed smile before he opened his mouth.

"Mrs. Archeval?" he asked.

"Yes?" I answered, still not used to being addressed with that title.

"I’m sorry for showing up unannounced like this. Your husband sent me here. I’m Dr. Vale Chesten." he replied, extending his hand toward me in an attempt to initiate a handshake.

Wait? Vale Chesten? You’ve got to be kidding me?

"V-Vale Chesten? A-aren’t you that multi-awarded, world-renowned child psychologist?" I stammered between my words. "But I heard you were stationed in New York?"

"Oh, I guess you do know me." he smiled so gently and dazzlingly that it kind of reminded me of certain someone, except this smile made you feel warm and fuzzy inside and the other made you question his purpose.

But of course I know him. He owned the hospital we frequented back in New York. I couldn’t hire him even if I had enough money because this man only accepted patients at his own personal discretion. The Archeval family must be far too powerful to have been able to hire him so effortlessly and home service at that.

I hurriedly stepped aside, panicking yet I tried to remain calm. "Please, come in."

He entered the foyer slowly, taking in the broad staircase and the softly dimmed sconces—as if he was carefully assessing the entire house. The doctor draped his coat neatly over his arm and nodded approvingly at the surroundings.

"I’m sorry to have you come personally despite your extremely busy schedule." I apologized guiltily. When that man told me a doctor would come, I didn’t realize it would be someone of this caliber. He could’ve told me in advance.

"Thank you for welcoming me here," he said softly. "For some children, being in a familiar space makes the first meeting significantly easier, so this actually works out well."

"Still..." I started, but he gently cut me off by placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I swallowed, my throat tightening. "My son is upstairs. He hasn’t come down because a cleaner came by."

"That’s alright," he replied with composed ease. "I’m here to meet him where he is."

We ascended the staircase together, our steps muffled by the long carpet runner. It struck me how suddenly enormous the house felt when I was next to him. It seemed like we had been walking for almost forever before we finally reached the room.

At the top of the stairs, I paused.

"I should warn you," I whispered. "He might not look at you. And he might also throw things. Or he might run back inside."

"Whatever he does is perfectly okay," Dr. Chesten murmured calmly.

We walked toward his door. I knocked lightly—the way he preferred. Two taps. A pause. One more. It was a gentle signal that someone was accompanying me so he wouldn’t get surprised.

Inside, something shifted—a toy maybe, or his little feet brushing against the carpeted floor.

"Sweetheart," I called gently, "a doctor is here to meet you. Just to meet you, nothing more."

Dr. Chesten crouched beside me but said nothing. He simply waited with me in the hallway, as if silence itself was a language he spoke fluently and effortlessly.

A minute passed.

Maybe two.

Then the door eased open just enough for one eye to peek through—my little boy’s cautious, searching gaze met ours. From all the years of attending therapy, my son has developed some sort of aversion to doctors.

"It’s okay," I whispered. "I’m right here."

First meetings will always be the hardest.

Dr. Chesten then offered him a warm, patient smile. "Hello. Thank you for letting me visit your home."

My son didn’t answer, of course. But he didn’t close the door either.

So we waited again.

After a moment, the door swung open farther—still guarded, but open. He stepped back, granting us the space to enter if we chose. I looked at Dr. Chesten and he nodded.

"We’ll go slowly," he whispered to me.

My son retreated to his reading nook by the window—the one overlooking the backyard garden. He curled into his beanbag, clutching a stuffed whale he had always loved deeply.

Dr. Chesten sat on the rug, far enough not to overwhelm him but close enough to be unmistakably present.

He didn’t try to start a conversation. Didn’t try to coax him out. He simply breathed in the quiet of the room as though he genuinely belonged there.

I stood by the doorframe, unsure whether I should move or stay still.

The doctor glanced at me and nodded gently—stay.

My son studied the doctor’s face with his quick, uncertain glances—the ones he used whenever he struggled to recognize expressions. He always looked in fragments, never all at once. First at the eyes. Then at the mouth. Then at me. Then away again.

Dr. Chesten slowly placed his hands flat on the floor in front of him, palms open. A gesture of no pressure, no expectation.

After a few moments, my son reached beside him, grabbed one of his drawings from his bag, and slid it across the carpet toward the doctor without ever lifting his gaze.

Dr. Chesten accepted it softly, almost reverently, as though receiving something sacred. "This is beautiful," he said. "Did you draw this yourself?"

My son’s shoulders loosened by the tiniest, almost invisible degree before he nodded.

The doctor gave him space then, turning to me and motioning toward the hallway. I hesitated, but he shook his head gently.

"It’s alright," he whispered. "He’s watching us. He’ll feel safer if he sees calm."

We stepped into the hallway. The door remained open. My son peeked over the beanbag just enough to keep me in sight.

I pressed my hand against the doorframe, steadying myself. "This is the first time he warmed up this easily to a doctor. A lot of times he was too wary around them," I whispered. I suppose his skill wasn’t just for show.

"That’s exactly the reason I came here today. I wanted to assess my patient’s condition."

A soft rustling drifted from inside the room. Asher had picked up another drawing—he held it halfway toward the door, waiting patiently.

"Look, he’s just letting me into his world today," he added, accepting the drawing from the little hand that offered it.

For the first time in weeks, hope didn’t feel like a fragile thing.

It felt like something living. Something actually within reach.

"I’m planning to make regular visits to this place. I have a strong feeling that I don’t really need to give you any overly specific advice on how to handle his emotions because I’m sure you’ve already heard it a thousand times. But I’ll write and send some notes to you just in case." he continued, his eyes following my son who had now quietly retreated back inside. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"I can’t thank you enough for going out of your way for us." I offered him a shallow bow of gratitude.

"Don’t mind that. I wouldn’t pass up the chance of meeting my brother’s wife."