Lahat ng Kabanata ng Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Kabanata 461 - Kabanata 470

Marcus' POV "Madeline?" I murmured, seeing her standing in the doorway like she was about to come in just as I was about to leave. Her eyes were red, clearly betraying that she'd been crying. Her hair was slightly messy, like she'd run her hands through it over and over. And her expression—she looked exhausted. Not just physically. There was a deep emotional weariness etched into every line of her face, a kind of fatigue that seemed to come straight from her soul and spread through her entire body. "You scared me," I said, instinctively pulling her into an embrace, a wave of overwhelming relief washing over me just from seeing her there—safe, whole. She didn't resist, but she didn't hug me back either. She stayed still in my arms, passive, as if she were merely tolerating the contact instead of participating in it. It felt like I was holding a distant version of her. "I told you I was getting a ride home," she said when I pulled back slightly, her voice sounding more tired th

Madeline's POV The morning was cold and gray when I heard the sound of a car pulling up in front of our building. I looked out the window and spotted a black Land Rover parked downstairs. Christian had arrived to pick us up. "They're here," I told Marcus, who was finishing zipping up his suitcase in the bedroom. The tension between us still hung in the air like a heavy cloud after the conversation the night before. We'd slept in the same bed, but on opposite sides, each of us pretending to be asleep whenever the other shifted. It felt like we were walking through a minefield, every word loaded with the potential to blow up in our faces. "I'm ready," he said, coming into the living room with his suitcase and a carefully neutral expression. I grabbed my bag and double-checked that I had all my documents and a few basic medications I'd set aside for the trip. It was strange to think that in just a few hours I'd be back in Verdania—a country that was both my home and the source o

Madeline's POV Christian left as soon as the security team arrived, promising to come back once he had more information about the attack. Now our building was completely taken over by security, from the entrance downstairs to two men stationed strategically outside our apartment door. It felt surreal, watching our normal life turn into something straight out of an action movie. Men in dark suits with discreet earpieces moved through the hallways, checking every corner, every shadow, like our safety depended on constant surveillance. I stayed in the apartment with Olivia, Zoey, and Marcus. All of us were stuck in a kind of emotional limbo, replaying the terrifying fact that we could have died—and that we'd been saved by mere minutes. If Zoey's boot hadn't been such a hassle to take off and put back on, if I hadn't offered the anti-inflammatory, if we hadn't gotten distracted by the camp photos… we'd be dead right now. It was impossible to fully process. Death had passed so close

Madeline's POV The jet touched down in Verdania with a smoothness that couldn't have been more at odds with the emotional chaos inside me. As we taxied down the runway, a tight knot formed in my chest, like something could happen at any second. As if another bomb were waiting for us—hidden in every shadow, every suspicious movement, every person who came too close. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were walking straight into a trap. Every second we spent on Verdanian soil felt like another second of exposure to a danger I had chosen to face—dragging innocent people along with me. We got off the jet in silence, all of us visibly tense despite our efforts to look normal. The private airport was discreet and luxurious, but I still felt exposed. Vulnerable. Like I was standing in an open field, waiting for the shot I was convinced would come. While we waited for the cars that would take us away, I quietly moved closer to Christian. There was something I'd been thinking about the

Marcus' POV I watched Madeline lying in the hospital bed, still holding her hand carefully, as if she were made of glass and could shatter with any sudden movement. The last few hours had been a whirlwind of emotions and fear that left me mentally drained. First, the devastating news about her father's death. I'd seen the shock ripple across Madeline's face like a wave, turning anxious expectation into raw, uncontrollable pain. The way she'd emotionally collapsed had broken my heart, especially knowing there was nothing I could do to ease that particular kind of loss. Then came the physical reaction—the sudden pain in her abdomen, the panic in her eyes when she realized something might be wrong with the baby. Those minutes of running through the hospital corridors, carrying her to obstetric emergency, had been some of the most terrifying moments of my life. Now, after a full battery of tests, she was stable. But the scare had given me a painfully clear realization: I wouldn't s