Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 66: You’re beautiful.

>Mallory

"I’m here to pick up my son."

Mara stood in front of the door, looking like she was finally back to her old self. It was already afternoon, just hours before dinner tonight. She had that familiar cheeky smile on her face, sunglasses pushed up on her head, her posture relaxed like she owned the place.

"Back at your old self, huh?" I said, narrowing my eyes at her as I stepped aside to let her in, holding the door open wider.

She patted my shoulder lightly as she passed me. "Come on. Drunk me is the past me." She smiled and walked inside, her heels clacking loudly against the marble floor with each step.

"Damn. I told him to be modest. I didn’t know he’d be this modest," she said, letting out a breath as her eyes slowly scanned the whole house, from the high ceiling to the wide living room.

There it is again. That rich-kid mindset that was spreading across their family.

Honestly, I wasn’t even surprised anymore.

"So where’s my son?" she asked, turning back to me. "I’m taking him out on a date."

Before I could answer, a sudden sound came from upstairs. A bedroom door opened, followed by quick footsteps. My heart jumped.

My son appeared at the top of the stairs, still in his yellow banana pajamas. The moment he spotted Mara, his eyes widened. He rushed down so fast my heart almost burst.

"Careful!" I warned, my hand lifting instinctively, my chest tightening.

"There you go!" Mara said happily, crouching down and opening her arms wide.

Asher, who hadn’t seen her in so long, didn’t slow down. He practically threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her neck.

When my husband said he had already taken care of my son, I didn’t expect this at all.

Still, it made me feel relieved. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about Asher while also stressing about the business dinner tonight.

I glanced at my watch. It was already past noon. I doubted my husband would be here any minute now.

"I’ll go get him ready," I said, stepping closer.

"I didn’t know you were coming, so I didn’t dress him in advance."

I reached for my son, but Mara pulled him back easily, holding him close against her side.

"Go take a break," she said. "I’ll take care of him." She turned to Asher and gently booped his nose. "Let’s go."

He giggled, squirming in her arms.

"What?" I asked, confused, my brows knitting together.

"We’re leaving. Bye!" she said, already turning toward the door and waving casually over her shoulder.

"Wait—" I said, following them, my steps quickening.

But she was already outside.

The door closed before I even got the chance to say goodbye to my son.

I sighed, rubbing my temple.

At least she was acting like herself again. If she hadn’t shown up today after the way she ruined herself the other night, I would’ve marched straight to her company.

Maybe I should get ready too.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the second floor.

Realizing I didn’t have anything to wear.

What a bother.

I sighed. I was about to head upstairs when my phone rang. My husband’s name lit up the screen.

"Hello?" I answered.

"I’m outside," he said. His voice was calm, familiar.

Outside? Isn’t it too early?

I frowned slightly, glancing toward the door.

"Already?"

"Mm. Come down."

When I opened the front door, he was standing there, keys in hand, jacket resting over his arm. He looked relaxed, like this was all planned.

"You’re not ready," he said, his eyes briefly scanning me from head to toe.

"I didn’t think you’d come this early."

He smiled faintly. "That’s why I did." Then he gestured toward the car with his chin. "Get in. I’ll take you to get ready."

"Where?"

"The best," he replied easily. "You deserve it."

The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. The city passed by outside the window. He reached over once to lower the air when he noticed me rubbing my arms.

We stopped in front of a high-end salon. The staff already seemed to know him, greeting us quickly and leading me inside without hesitation.

"Take care of her," he said simply. "I’ll be back."

I was led deeper into the salon, the noise growing louder the further we went. Mirrors lined the walls, lights bright enough to make me squint. Someone gently took my bag from my shoulder, and another guided me to a chair.

"Sit here," a woman said kindly, pressing a hand to my shoulder. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Before I could ask anything, a black cape was draped over me. My hair was lifted, fingers moving through it like they already knew what to do.

"We’ll start with the hair," someone said.

They washed it first, warm water running over my scalp, fingers pressing gently as if trying to melt the tension out of me. I hadn’t realized how tight my shoulders were until they slowly relaxed.

When I was back in the chair, they dried it, section by section, brushing, lifting, shaping. I caught pieces of conversation—length, volume, soft waves—but none of it was directed at me.

Next came makeup.

A stool was pulled close, and the stylist tilted my chin up slightly. Brushes moved across my skin, light but steady. They covered the tired look under my eyes, softened my features, and fixed things I hadn’t even noticed before. Now and then, they asked me to close my eyes, then open them again.

I barely had the chance to speak. I just let them work.

Then they brought the dress.

It was hanging neatly on a rack, wrapped in clear plastic. When they slid it out, I felt my breath catch. It was a simple but elegant black dress, fitted in places I usually tried to hide, the fabric smooth and heavy in my hands.

"Change here," they said, pulling the curtain closed.

When I stepped out, they adjusted everything—pulling, smoothing, tightening just enough.

Someone knelt to fix the hem. Another handed me heels that matched perfectly with my dress. A glittering black stiletto with red soles.

"Almost done," one of them said.

They turned me toward the mirror.

For a moment, I didn’t move.

The woman staring back at me looked familiar, but also not. Her posture was straighter. Her eyes looked clearer. The tiredness I carried every day was gone, replaced by something quiet and confident. My hair is braided elegantly.

The dress hugged me in a way I wasn’t used to, falling just right, clean and sharp, but still soft. The color suited me more than I expected. My hair framed my face neatly, and my makeup didn’t scream—it just fit.

I lifted a hand, touching my own arm, just to be sure it was really me.

I swallowed.

When I finally stepped out of the room, the chatter faded. He was already there, waiting.

He looked up—and paused.

For half a second, his expression shifted. He just stood there, his body completely still.

"You’re ready," he finally opened his mouth.

I nodded. "Let’s get this over with."

He stepped closer, adjusting the clasp of a bracelet I hadn’t realized was crooked. His fingers brushed my wrist, his touch intentional.

"You’re beautiful," he suddenly whispered.

Heat crept up to my face, my chest feeling like it was about to burst out of my chest.