บททั้งหมดของ Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: บทที่ 171 - บทที่ 180

Annabelle's POV I found out Elise was still in the hospital by accident. I was walking down the corridor when I overheard two nurses talking about a blonde patient in room 304 who was being "difficult." One of them said the name Elise, and my blood boiled. While Zoey was meeting Matt for the first time, Elise was in the same hospital, probably pretending to be the victim. I couldn't hold back. I had to see her. I had to look her in the eyes and get the truth. I went up to the third floor during visiting hours, when the halls were busiest and I could slip by unnoticed. Room 304 was at the end of the corridor, cut off from the others. Perfect. I knocked softly and went in without waiting. Elise was propped up in bed, scrolling through her phone, an arm bandaged and a few scratches on her face, but visibly better than my sister had been. When she saw me, her expression shifted instantly into a mask of fake sympathy. "Annie!" she said, trying to sound surprised and cordial. "

Dr. Porter walked into my room wearing a bright smile that instantly made me nervous. It was the kind of big, optimistic grin doctors wear when they're about to give good news—but in that moment, it didn't feel good at all. There was an energy of relief and positivity radiating from him that clashed completely with the tightness in my stomach. "Zoey, I have excellent news," he said enthusiastically, stepping closer to my bed with my chart in hand and a professional look of satisfaction. "You're officially ready to be discharged. Your neurological exams are all perfectly normal, your recovery has exceeded every expectation, and physically you're doing great. You can go home in the next few days." My stomach dropped like I'd swallowed a stone. "I don't want to," I said immediately, my voice coming out sharper and more desperate than I intended. Dr. Porter stopped reading the chart and looked up, clearly surprised by my reaction. "What do you mean, you don't want to?" he asked,

Annie was perched comfortably on the edge of my bed, her legs swinging carelessly like a teenager's, watching me closely as I applied the final touch of mascara in front of the vanity mirror. "Do you think this lipstick's too dark?" I asked, leaning in closer to the mirror and turning my face from side to side, studying how the color caught the soft bedroom light. "It's absolutely perfect," Annie said confidently, absentmindedly picking up one of my pearl earrings from the vanity and holding it up to the warm glow of the lamp. "It matches the elegant tone of your dress exactly." I was wearing a long-sleeved burgundy dress Christian had picked out for me a few months back, before everything in our lives had spun into emotional and physical chaos. It was elegant without being too formal, comfortable enough for an evening I instinctively suspected would be far more complicated and longer than Christian was letting on. "You know," Annie said casually, still playing with my earring

Christian's POV The walk back to the dining room was an exercise in self-control that demanded every ounce of strength I had left. Zoey stayed close, her hand tightly clasped in mine, her silent support the only thing keeping me steady. When every curious gaze turned toward us, I managed to force a polite smile. "Everything alright?" my mother asked, her brow creased in a rare display of genuine concern. "Perfectly fine," I said, pulling out Zoey's chair with automatic courtesy. "She just forgot to take her pain medication." The lie rolled off my tongue easily, smooth as truth. Years of boardrooms and high-stakes negotiations had trained me well in the art of emotional camouflage. Joseph sat at the head of the table, his eyes glowing with that genuine warmth he always radiated when the family was together. My father sat to his right, speaking animatedly with Robert about this year's grape harvest. The normalcy of it all felt surreal, like a photograph of a moment that no long

The morning air was cool as we got into the car to drive to the hospital. Christian had been restless since waking up, his fingers tapping anxiously against the steering wheel as he maneuvered along the winding country roads. The quiet between us stretched until it finally broke. His thoughts spilled out aloud, as if speaking them might somehow help him make sense of it all. "I just don't understand," he said, shaking his head as he slowed for a sharp curve. "I never thought my father or my uncles cared about the family business at all." I adjusted my seatbelt and turned slightly toward him, studying the tense profile of his face, the morning light carving shadows around his eyes. "Uncle John who is Marcus's father, hasn't left his vineyard in Valentia for decades," he went on, his tone filled with disbelief. "And Uncle Louis, Anthony's father, has never been interested in anything more than drinking the wine. They always seemed perfectly happy to collect their dividends and live