Lahat ng Kabanata ng Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Kabanata 371 - Kabanata 380

Two Months Later, Madeline's POV "Don't forget your dress fitting this afternoon," Dominic said, adjusting his tie as he got ready to leave. He kissed my cheek—one of those automatic kisses couples give each other when they've been together too long. "Vivian is going with you." My stomach twisted slightly at the sound of her name, but I kept the plastic smile on my face. "Of course," I replied, forcing a cheerful tone. "And don't be late this time, okay? You know how Vivian gets stressed." Oh yes. How could I ever forget how stressed Vivian would get? "Don't worry," I said, smiling again as I opened the door for him. "Love you," he murmured distractedly. "Love you too," I lied automatically. I leaned my back against the closed door and let out a deep breath, feeling the tension I always carried when he was around finally start to ease. "I hate it when he spends the weekend here," Olivia commented from the living room, rolling her eyes without even looking up from he

Madeline's POV My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the pregnancy test onto the bathroom floor. Two lines. Two unmistakable lines that were about to change my life. Olivia stood frozen in the doorway, watching me with an expression that blended fear and tenderness, like she wanted to pull me into a hug and, at the same time, shield both of us from what those results meant. "And now?" I whispered, still staring at the test. "Now…" Olivia began, but she was cut off by the sound of the apartment door opening without warning. "Madeline! Olivia! Where are you?" Vivian's artificially cheerful voice echoed down the hallway. My blood turned to ice. Vivian had a key to the apartment as Dominic had insisted on it "for emergencies." I looked desperately at Olivia and tried to hide the test. But it was already too late. "You're pregnant!" Vivian exclaimed, snatching the test from my hand before we could react. "Dominic is going to be so happy when he finds out!" The look

Marcus' POV I arrived early and parked a short distance from the yoga studio, keeping a discreet watch. The place was small and inviting, with a glass front that let in plenty of natural light. At 10:15 a.m., a group of women stepped outside, most of them carrying yoga mats and chatting animatedly. It was easy to spot Olivia among them, thanks to the photos I'd been sent. She had the same eyes as Madeline, but her hair was shorter and darker, cut into a long bob that swung as she walked. She wore simple workout clothes—black leggings and a gray top. However, there was something about her posture that stood out to me. She was more grounded and more practical than Madeline. Even as she laughed with the others, her eyes kept scanning the surroundings, like she was always on alert. When the group broke apart and Olivia started walking on her own, I decided to approach. "Excuse me," I said as she slipped the studio key into her bag. "Do you take beginners?" She turned, giving me a

Madeline's POV "So, which of these options do you prefer?" The pastry chef smiled as she arranged an elaborate selection of sweets on the white marble table of her boutique. The place was one of those expensive Belmonte spots—pale pink walls, crystal chandeliers, and a display case that looked more like a jewelry store than a bakery. "We have gourmet pistachio chocolate truffles, coconut truffles with Brazilian nuts, caramel fudge bites made with artisanal dulce de leche, and mini Belgian chocolate éclairs that have been a huge hit at this season’s events." I sat between Olivia and Vivian in one of the boutique's velvet armchairs, trapped in yet another endless session of perfect wedding preparations. My morning sickness had eased up that day, but the overly sweet, perfumed smell of the place still made my stomach churn. Every sugary scent felt like a reminder of the carefully constructed lie being built around me. "At the last family party, they were delicious," Vivian said brig

Madeline's POV It wasn't a question. It was a simple, direct statement that was impossible to deny after what he'd just witnessed. "It's not yours," I said immediately, still on my knees on the cold bathroom floor, trying to regain some control over a situation that was slipping through my fingers. The words came out automatically, like a protective reflex. Denial was easier and safer. It kept a barrier between us, even if we both knew there was a very real chance it wasn't true. "How far along are you?" he asked, stepping closer, his tone careful but insistent. I tried to stand, bracing myself against the cold sink, but my legs were shaking from the nausea and from the emotional strain crashing down all at once. I didn't want this conversation. Not here. Not like this. "I haven't done any official tests yet…" I tried to deflect, avoiding his eyes. But I could tell Marcus had no intention of letting it go. "How many months, Madeline?" he repeated, firmer now, like he knew