Semua Bab Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Bab 321 - Bab 330

The call came two days after the improvised party at Nate's house. We were having coffee together in the kitchen, talking through the apartments we were going to tour. He'd scheduled five different options in neighborhoods he thought I'd love. Suddenly, Nate's phone rang, the precinct's number flashing on the screen. "We need you to come in again for a few clarifications," Detective Thompson said on the other end, his tone professional but not urgent. "Routine matters. Fact-checking. Verifying a few details from the statements. Nothing too complicated, but it's necessary for the case." My stomach tightened instantly, like someone had cinched a hard knot right in the center of my abdomen. The breakfast I'd been enjoying seconds earlier suddenly lost all flavor, my mouth going dry. I'd thought the hardest part was over. I'd thought I could finally start processing the trauma in peace, at my own pace, without being forced to relive the most disturbing details of that terrible night.

Nathaniel's POV "I mean, it's not like I'm planning this for tomorrow or trying to put any pressure on you," Annie said, her words coming out in a slightly nervous rhythm. "But I think these things need to be clear early on. So we know… whether we're on the same page." She was staring down at the garden beneath the terrace, deliberately avoiding my eyes in a way that told me just how much this conversation mattered to her. "Of course I want kids," I replied immediately, my heart warming at the future I'd already imagined countless times with Annie by my side. Annie wrapped her arms around me with a force that caught me off guard. Her relief was almost tangible in the intensity of her embrace. I felt her arms tighten around my neck, her body finally relaxing against mine in a way that told me she'd been carrying far more tension about this than she'd let on. But I knew I had to be honest with her. Even if it meant potentially shattering the perfect moment we were sharing on th

Nate's house looked like an organized battlefield, cardboard boxes scattered across the living room floor and carefully sorted piles of clothes, books, and personal items covering nearly every available surface. I was sitting in the middle of the chaos, helping organize his impressive collection of business books and biographies, when I realized the problem I'd been avoiding had become impossible to ignore. "Nate," I called out, glancing around the spacious room that had turned into a temporary moving warehouse. "I think we have a bit of a problem." He emerged from the office carrying a stack of folders and important documents, his hair slightly mussed from the effort of organizing years of professional and personal life. The domestic sight of him made me smile despite my growing concern about the logistics of the move. "What kind of problem?" he asked, carefully setting the documents into a box labeled Office. "The kind where not all of this is going to fit in the new house,"

The Kensington lobby had never felt as imposing as it did that Monday morning. The polished marble walls and crystal chandeliers that once impressed me now felt like silent witnesses to my return to the corporate world after weeks of upheaval. My fingers tightened automatically around Nate's hand as we walked through the main entrance, exactly as he'd promised. Together. Hand in hand. Through the front door. The buzz started almost immediately. I could feel eyes turning toward us, hear the low murmur of conversations that cut off abruptly as we passed, only to restart in even quieter tones once we moved on. Some employees tried to disguise their curiosity by pretending to check their phones or review documents, but the tension in the air was unmistakable. Everyone knew who we were. Everyone knew our story. And everyone had an opinion about us walking in side by side as an openly acknowledged couple. I felt stronger with Nate beside me, of course. His presence was an anchor, keeping

The bedroom was a state of organized chaos, with two large suitcases spread open on our king-size bed and clothes scattered everywhere as we tried to decide what to pack for our trip to Verdania. It was Matt's first birthday, and Nate was about to be officially introduced to my parents. Packing which was something that had always been simple for me, had turned into a much more complex operation now that we had to consider not just our own needs, but also those of our newest four-legged family member. Ginger was sprawled right in the middle of the mess, occasionally grabbing a sock or a piece of clothing that fell to the floor and turning it into her personal toy, completely oblivious to our serious attempts at organization. Her golden fur looked striking against the navy-blue duvet, and she seemed perfectly content being the center of attention while we organized our lives around her. "Are you absolutely sure Ginger can fly?" I asked for the tenth time in two hours, stopping mid-