Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 59: What I was fighting for

>Mallory

"Specialized school?" I repeated, my voice quieter this time, just to make sure I hadn’t heard him wrong.

For a moment, my mind froze. A specialized school... If that was really true, then maybe—just maybe—it could help my son. I had tried searching for something similar before, spending countless nights scrolling through websites and forums, asking doctors and counselors. But there were barely any schools willing to take children with cases like his. Most of them either rejected us outright or demanded conditions I could never meet.

"That’s right," he said calmly. "You may have never heard of it, but our hospital has its own specialized school. It’s designed for patients who have experienced complex trauma and emotional or behavioral difficulties."

As he spoke, he closed the file in his hands with a soft sound. Then he turned his body slightly, facing me directly. His expression was gentle. His voice professional, and steady—too steady, if I was being honest.

"We only offer it to VVIP customers or to those who receive special recommendations," he continued. "That’s why it isn’t well known. Still, many clients actively seek to enroll their children there."

He smiled lightly as he reached out, lifting my hand and holding it between both of his. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was warm, reassuring in a way that made my chest ache.

I swallowed hard.

If what he said was true, then this school could help my son catch up with his studies. It could give him a safe place, people who understood him, teachers who wouldn’t look at him like he was broken.

But at the same time, guilt crept into my heart.

I felt terrible relying on my husband’s connections again—especially when none of this was written in the contract. I was always the one receiving. Always the one being helped.

Why was I never the one giving?

"T-then... about the tuition," I started, my voice hesitant. The words felt heavy on my tongue.

"Oh, you don’t need to worry about that," he replied smoothly, cutting me off before I could finish. "I own the hospital, so you won’t have to pay."

I stiffened.

"I would feel bad..." I murmured, my voice trailing off as I lowered my gaze.

"Well," he said, tapping a finger against his chin as if thinking, "one quarter costs about a million dollars, if I remember correctly."

My jaw dropped.

A million dollars.

For three months?

My mind immediately started calculating, numbers flashing one after another. Even if I worked myself to the bone, even if I saved every single cent, there was no way I could earn that much on my own.

Not in years.

"Anyway," he said lightly, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb, "I want you to think about it."

He glanced at his watch and stood up. "I should get going now. I still have another client to meet."

He brushed his pants, dusting off imaginary dirt, then turned toward the door. I hurriedly stood up as well, bowing slightly out of habit.

"I-I see. Thank you for your time," I said.

We walked together in silence toward the entrance. The quiet felt thick, pressing down on my chest. Every step echoed faintly through the hallway.

"You don’t have to walk me all the way," he said, stopping near the door. He reached for the latch and turned to face me.

"And I know I’ve already said this," he continued, his voice suddenly serious, "but nothing good will come if you fall for my brother."

His tone softened at the end, turning into a gentle smile. Then he pulled the door open and stepped outside.

The door closed with a soft thud.

I stood there for a long moment, my hand pressed against my chest.

Why did something always feel off whenever he said things like that?

It didn’t sound like a simple reminder. It felt more like a warning.

I let out a quiet sigh.

It didn’t matter. I knew my place. My husband and I lived in completely different worlds. I was only here because of the contract.

Nothing more.

Turning away, I walked toward the stairs. My footsteps sounded unusually loud in the silent house. Halfway up, I stopped and looked around.

The house felt empty.

I had gotten used to seeing my husband sitting on the sofa in the living room, reading or working quietly. Now that he wasn’t there, the space felt cold and hollow.

I shook my head and continued walking upstairs, slowing down as I reached our bedroom door. I took a deep breath, then gently turned the latch and pushed it open.

My son was sleeping peacefully on the bed.

He had his back turned to me, curled slightly on his side, hugging his whale plushie tightly against his chest. His breathing was soft and steady. Just looking at him filled my heart with a strange warmth I couldn’t explain.

I walked over and sat beside him. The mattress dipped slightly under my weight.

Carefully, I brushed my fingers against his cheek, moving the messy strands of hair away from his face.

He didn’t stir.

"Specialized school..." I whispered quietly.

My thoughts raced.

I had thought I was doing well. I hadn’t spent much money, and I was receiving a monthly allowance from my husband. I even managed to save some.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Not enough to give my son the life he deserved. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Was it really okay to keep relying on him like this?

Each favor felt like another weight added to my chest, a debt of gratitude I would never be able to repay.

Even with Mara, I often refused her help unless I had no other choice.

I was stuck.

My son shifted in his sleep and suddenly reached out, grabbing my hand. He pulled it closer and hugged it like it was his plushie.

I chuckled softly.

"What am I even hesitating for?" I whispered to myself.

This was what I was fighting for. For my son, I could do anything.

I had promised myself that the moment I escaped that miserable house, I would do everything in my power to make him happy.

No matter how hard it was, I owe him this much.

I would prepare something special for him when he went back to school.

Lost in my thoughts, I was startled when my phone suddenly rang, the sound cutting through the quiet room.

I panicked.

Quickly, I grabbed it from my pocket and pressed the green button, my eyes darting back to my son to make sure he hadn’t woken up.

Seeing him still asleep, I let out a small sigh of relief.

I frowned at the screen when I saw who was calling, then slipped out of the room quietly.

Once outside, I brought the phone to my ear.

"Hey," I whispered. "Why haven’t you called for so long?"

"Did you miss me?" she laughed on the other end.

I clicked my tongue. This girl—making me worry while she sounded like she was having the time of her life.

"Never," I replied sarcastically.

"That’s too bad. I missed you so much," she said.

Her words sounded strange. Slurred.

My brows furrowed.

"Are you drunk?"