บททั้งหมดของ Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: บทที่ 351 - บทที่ 360

The small chapel was only a few minutes from the mansion, but the trip there would be made with all the pomp a family like ours deserved. A row of classic cars was parked in front of the main entrance. There was a silver Rolls-Royce Phantom, two vintage Bentleys, and a classic 1950s Mercedes, all impeccably restored and decorated with white ribbons and small floral arrangements. Zoey stood beside me, making the final adjustments to my dress with professional precision. She carefully arranged every fold of the train, making sure the fabric wouldn't get caught in the car door when I stepped out. Her hands moved with meticulous care, as if she were preparing a work of art. "Done," she said, stepping back to admire the result. "You look perfect." The uniformed drivers waited respectfully, and I saw Bianca heading toward the second car with Sarah and Tori. Everything around us moved in an elegant, coordinated flow, like a perfectly rehearsed dance. Zoey was about to follow the others

There we were again, in business class. We were seated side by side with our hands intertwined over the armrest. The only difference was that now I wore a gold band that caught the cabin light with a soft glow, and the man next to me was no longer an attractive stranger I'd just met—he was my husband. A few months ago, sitting in this very position, I never could've imagined I'd be married to the man who had taken the seat beside me on a plane. And now, here we were, about to have one child, and about to adopt another. Already blessed with the most loving little dog in the world. Ginger had flown back on a private jet with Oliver and Sarah playing babysitters. The rest of the family took advantage of the fancy ride too. But Nate and I chose a commercial flight. We still couldn't have an official honeymoon until we went through the proper tests and got the doctor's approval, but we could allow ourselves a little nostalgia. "Still afraid of flying?" Nate asked, giving my hand a gen

Marcus' POV Leaning against the glass wall overlooking the runway, I watched the constant flow of people around me. Couples laughing as they scroll through their phones. Entire families loaded down with suitcases and excitement. Executives checking last-minute emails. Solo travelers lost in books or headphones. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they were—and where they were going. I, on the other hand, was standing here waiting for a woman whose name I didn't know, about to board a honeymoon that wasn't mine, based on a promise made after a night of sex that still felt unreal. I slipped my hand into the pocket of my jacket and feel the crumpled piece of paper she left had behind in the hotel room. The flight details, gate number, and time were all written in hurried but careful handwriting. "This way we don't have to exchange numbers or accidentally learn each other's names at check-in," she had said, wearing that mysterious smile I couldn't get out of my head. Any rational

"Welcome to your honeymoon, Aphrodite," he whispered, and that rough voice which was already the soundtrack of my freedom sent a shiver down my spine despite the humid heat wrapping around us. He looked at me. Really looked at me. He must have seen the exhaustion written all over my face, the greasy hair, the travel-worn skin. "We need a shower. Now," he said, his voice low and urgent, and it wasn't just about getting clean. Without ceremony, his hands found the strap of my dress. He lifted the fabric, and I raised my arms without hesitation, letting him strip away that last layer of grime, and the memory of the journey. The dress fell onto the wooden floor. He was already pulling off his own shirt, and within seconds we were both naked, facing each other in that luxury bungalow that smelled like salt air and new beginnings. He took my hand and led me into the bathroom. The glass shower was spacious and modern. He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until warm steam

Madeline's POV I hadn't been able to fall back asleep after he went out to take the call. I pretended to be asleep when I heard his careful footsteps leaving the bed, but the truth was I stayed wide awake, listening to fragments of the conversation drifting in from the deck. I couldn't hear everything, but certain words reached me with unsettling clarity: "board," "family," "Matt," and, most of all, an excited female voice shouting something about a baby. Zoey. That was the name I caught. A woman named Zoey talking about first words, about "Daddy" and "Mommy." Lying there in the dark, it was impossible not to connect the dots in a way that made my stomach twist. A man taking calls in the middle of the night, talking about family, about a baby, with a woman who clearly had enough intimacy to call him at any hour. The conclusions felt almost too obvious. When he finally came back inside, trying to be quiet, I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds longer. But the tightness in my c