All Chapters of Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Christian's POV I heard Zoey's footsteps coming toward the kitchen, but I couldn't take my eyes off the wooden box sitting in the pantry—its lid sealed, an envelope pinned neatly to the top. "What's wrong?" Zoey's voice came from behind me, tight, uneasy. I grabbed the box and set it on the counter, yanking the envelope off with more force than I meant to. "You want to tell me what this is doing here?" My voice came out harder than I'd intended. "Christian..." she started, but I was already opening the envelope. Inside was a card, the gold lettering gleaming under the kitchen light like a verdict being handed down. [To our most valued collaborator, A small token of appreciation for all your contributions. Your role has been essential. Edward Mendez,Director – Sunvale Winery.] The blood drained from my face. I read the words twice, then a third time, as if repetition might make them mean something else. "'Most valued collaborator'?" I read aloud, my voice dangerou

I woke up with swollen eyes and a pounding headache. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, the late-morning glow telling me it was well past nine. I'd barely slept a few restless hours, haunted by dreams where Christian looked at me with that same cold, accusing stare from last night. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I rubbed my face with both hands. My skin was still sore from crying for hours. After he left, I'd sat on the couch in silence, shifting between anger and heartbreak, trying to understand how everything had fallen apart so fast. Part of me did understand his reaction. It did look bad—the bottles of wine, Edward's card, the timing of it all. And I knew about Francesca, about what she'd done to him. I knew the kind of scar betrayal had left on him. It made sense that he'd react on instinct. But understanding it didn't make it hurt any less. I'd thought he'd cool off and come back once he'd had time to think. Or at least call. Talk to me like an adult. I thought he kne

Annabelle's POV The electronic beat pulsed through the bar as I took another sip of my cocktail, watching Amanda try to get the attention of the hot bartender who was clearly more into his own reflection in the mirror behind the counter. "Mandy, give it up. That guy's more in love with himself than any woman could ever be," I said, laughing when she made an exaggerated face. "You're only saying that because you've already got your own Valentian lover," she teased, turning toward me with a wicked grin. "So where is Marcus, anyway? I thought you two were basically glued together these days." "He's in Euradia for work." I shrugged, picking up an olive from the little dish between us. "And we're not glued together. We just... have fun when he's in town." "Oh, sure," Amanda said, rolling her eyes. "'Having fun.' Is that what we're calling it now?" "That's exactly what it is," I insisted, though a strange pang hit my chest. "Marcus's great, but it's not like we're planning a futu

I ran through the halls of Silvercrest Medical Center like my life depended on it, my heart pounding so hard it hurt to breathe. The fluorescent lights blurred above me, and the antiseptic smell made me queasy—or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones mixing with sheer panic. "Christian Kensington," I gasped to the nurse at the floor's reception desk. "Where is Christian Kensington?" "One moment, please." The woman typed something on her computer with maddening calm. "He's in room 412. Are you family?" "I'm his wife," I said quickly, already moving down the hallway before she could say another word. Annie hurried behind me, trying to keep up with my frantic pace. I found room 412 and was about to push the door open when a voice stopped me. "You must be Mrs. Kensington." I turned and saw a woman in a white coat approaching. She looked fairly young, her red hair pulled into a neat ponytail, her gentle smile doing little to hide the seriousness in her eyes. "Yes, that's me." My

"Afraid of me, I guess," I said softly. "Afraid of actually being happy." Christian studied me for a moment, as if trying to absorb every layer of what I'd just confessed. His fingers traced gentle patterns against mine, that familiar touch grounding me instantly. "Explain that to me," he said quietly. I took a deep breath, trying to untangle thoughts that had lived buried in me for years. It wasn't easy to put into words—the quiet ache of believing happiness wasn't meant for people like me. "I think neither of us really believes we can be happy in love," I said finally. "You because you can't let yourself fully trust anyone without expecting to be disappointed. And me... because I've never believed I was worthy of something truly good." His grip tightened around my hand, his eyes softening with a mix of understanding and hurt. "Zoey..." "No, let me finish," I said gently. "All my life, I've settled for crumbs. With Alex, I let him push me aside over and over again. I let