Falling For My Billionaire Savior - Chapter 83: Chapter 83

Luxury permeated every corner of the villa—the top-grade imported leather sofa in the living room, famous paintings hanging on the walls, antique vases displayed on exhibition shelves... Not every piece was priceless, but they were precious.
The first floor contained the living room, kitchen, and the servants' quarters. The second floor held the bedrooms of Martin, Helen, Richard, and Joey, along with a few guest rooms. The third floor was where Delilah's room was located, and also the wedding suite.
The layout spoke volumes about family hierarchy. Helen's eyes flashed with venom as we reached the third floor. It vanished in a blink, but not before I caught it.
I feigned ignorance, gasping audibly when she opened the suite door. The sheer opulence stole my breath. If Mason were here, he'd tease me for my dollar-sign eyes. I schooled my expression quickly.
It was a large suite. I walked in, and there was a separate living area. Helen explained that this was Delilah's idea, to make it convenient for receiving guests.
The sitting area had the same luxury sofa brand as downstairs, plus a chic wet bar stocked with crystal glassware. "The wine cellar's downstairs," Helen explained, gesturing at the liquor cabinet, which held only a few bottles.
To the left of the living room was the study, with mahogany bookshelves and a hand-carved desk. The right wing was the master bedroom, complete with an ensuite bathroom. Straight ahead was a smaller guest room and a walk-in closet.
Every piece of furniture exuded a subtle, soothing fragrance.
With the wedding just a month away, Helen mentioned the custom-made bedding and curtains were still en route but would arrive soon. "Any preferences for colors or patterns?" she asked.
At this stage, any requests would likely be ignored anyway. I could replace them later if needed. "Whatever you think is best. I'm not picky. Thank you for arranging everything," I replied sweetly.
After the tour, we returned to the living room just as Delilah and the others emerged from the study.
Delilah asked if I was pleased with the bridal suite. My exaggerated delight pleased her.
We stayed a while longer, chatting with Delilah, before Mason and I finally headed home.
We had arrived at noon, and now, it was already night. The day's emotional rollercoaster left me utterly drained. Yawning, I trudged upstairs and collapsed onto the bed, too exhausted to even shower.
Half-asleep, I felt the mattress dip beside me. A familiar warmth enveloped me as Mason pulled me into his arms. I nestled closer. Lately, this had become our routine. No matter how late he finished work, he would always come to bed and hold me.
Just as I was drifting off, Mason suddenly scooped me up and carried me toward the bathroom.
Dangling awkwardly in midair, I flailed indignantly. "Mason, must you always be so overbearing?"
He put me into the bathtub, already filled with perfectly warm water, except I was still clothed, which was anything but comfortable.
"Get out. I can wash myself," I snapped, shooting him a glare.
Soaked fabric clung to every curve as I stood and pointed at the door, signaling for him to get out, unaware of how incredibly tempting I looked now.
Mason's gaze darkened. Then, without a word, he stepped into the tub.
After we made love, he carried me back to the bedroom again. This time, I was properly cradled in his arms.
Lying in bed, I muttered bitterly, "Mason, did someone piss you off today?"
"Mm." His jaw tightened.
I propped myself up, rubbing my sore waist. "Then take it out on them, not me!" He had been relentless, only stopping when exhaustion reduced me to tearful pleas.
Mason stared at me as if weighing whether to speak. Finally, he sighed and turned away. "Sleep. I'll leave you be."
Something was bothering him, but fatigue swallowed my curiosity whole. Within minutes, I fell asleep.
When I woke the next morning, Mason was already gone, as usual. I assumed he was out for his morning run, but something else caught my attention. The pill wasn't on the nightstand.
After the miscarriage, he had always insisted on using protection himself, refusing to let me take birth control. But last night, he hadn't.
I checked the other nightstand. Nothing. Not ready to give up, I looked at the desk, rummaged through the drawers. No pill anywhere.
Sitting on the bed, I puzzled over it. Mason was meticulous. He wouldn't just forget. And if it wasn't an oversight... Did that mean he wanted me to have his child?
My heart raced, a mix of excitement and joy surging through me. Excited because I could soon be pregnant again. Joy, because I wanted Mason to be the father. If he hadn't been on board, I would have had to take the pill myself.
The absence of the pill made me so happy. I was practically bouncing with delight. I wanted to ask Mason and confirm whether he had really forgotten, or if this was his silent way of saying yes.
However, as I descended the stairs, he handed me a small pillbox. My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. With a defeated expression, I took it without even looking and shoved it into my pocket.
"Take it on time. Don't forget," Mason reminded me.
I nodded numbly. "Got it."
Breakfast was tasteless. After forcing down a few bites, I excused myself and retreated upstairs.
Suddenly overwhelmed by a crushing wave of self-pity, I locked the door and dragged a table to barricade it. Only then did I collapse onto the bed and sob uncontrollably.
I cried for my foolishness, for forgetting my place. How could I have ever believed Mason wanted a child with me? I came from a modest merchant family, and I was divorced. No amount of surgery or fake identities could change that.
Mason knew who I was. He was so outstanding. Countless wealthy girls were chasing after him. How could I possibly compete? Why would he settle for me? I had been so foolishly hopeful.
Our marriage was just a contract, and our intimacy was just for physical need. And yet, I had been stupid enough to think becoming "Katherine" would make him love me.
Tears soaked into the sheets, leaving a damp patch of regret.