บททั้งหมดของ Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: บทที่ 511 - บทที่ 520

Madeline's POV "Yes," Vivian said, and her voice was strangely calm. Resigned. "You're right. I am a fucking bitch. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of." She shrugged, like she was commenting on the weather. "But I'm not a murderer, Madeline." Something inside me snapped. "Yes you are!" I screamed, lunging toward her. "You killed my Marcus! I saw you shoot him!" The tears came back hard, spilling down my face as my voice completely broke. "You shot him and he fell and there was so much blood and he… he…" I couldn't finish. I collapsed, sobs wracking my body. Vivian watched me for a moment. Then she said calmly, "Shoulder shot. Precise." I lifted my head sharply, staring at her through blurred vision. "What?" "Upper trapezius muscle," she continued, almost clinically. "Painful enough to cause heavy bleeding and make him pass out. Enough for Dominic who was watching through the cameras to believe I'd done what was required. But far from any vital organ. Far f

Madeline's POV When I saw Vivian raise the gun to her own head, it took only a fraction of a second for me to understand what she was about to do. Just a fraction of a second for my brain to register the image. The cold metal against her temple. Her finger on the trigger. The resignation in her eyes. And then my body reacted before my mind could catch up. "No!" I screamed, launching myself forward. I didn't think. I just threw myself at her with everything I had, my hand slamming into her arm and knocking the gun aside at the very last possible second. The gun went off. The sound exploded in the air—so loud, so close—that my ears rang. I felt the heat of the shot pass near my face. Saw the flash. But the bullet didn't hit Vivian. It went nowhere. Into the sky. Into nothing. We crashed to the ground together in the garden. Me on top of her. Hands fighting for control of the gun. Vivian trying to turn the barrel back toward herself. Me fighting with everything in me t

Madeline's POV The address Christian gave me led to a modest neighborhood on the east side of Belmonte. Simple houses lined tree-shaded streets. The kind of place where people still knew each other by name, where kids played on the sidewalks until the sun went down, where neighbors chatted over low walls about soccer and the rising price of gas. It was a world completely different from mine. And even farther from Dominic's. I parked in front of number 247 and turned off the engine, but I didn't get out right away. I stayed there, hands still on the steering wheel, staring at the house through the windshield. It was small. Two stories. Fresh cream-colored paint, already starting to peel at the corners. A front garden cared for with love, even if it was simple—rose bushes, a small herb bed, white pebbles outlining the paths. A pink-and-purple children's bike leaned against the porch, the front basket stuffed with crayons. A house. A home. Built with effort and love by a woman w

Six Months Later, Madeline's POV I looked at myself in the mirror and almost laughed. There I was, in white again. A long, delicate dress—simple but elegant. My hair pulled into a loose bun, a few strands intentionally falling free. Soft, natural makeup. And a smile I couldn't hold back, no matter how hard I tried to look serious. "I honestly can't even remember how many times I've put on a wedding dress," I said out loud, shaking my head. The room burst into laughter. Zoey was sprawled across the couch. Annie sat on the floor checking the shoes I'd be wearing. Gwen was adjusting my veil with the focus of a professional stylist. Mia was on her phone, probably coordinating something downstairs for the ceremony. And Olivia… Olivia was standing beside me, watching my reflection with that warm, knowing smile of hers. "But this one," Olivia said softly, her voice full of emotion, "this is the happiest one?" I turned to look at her directly, not through the mirror, and felt my th

Madeline's POV The apartment door opened with a soft click. Marcus didn't hesitate. He turned toward me with that mischievous smile I knew so well, and before I could say a word, he already had me in his arms, lifting me off the floor in one smooth, decisive motion. He carried me across the threshold like I weighed nothing at all. A light, happy laugh slipped from my lips. My arms went around his neck on pure instinct, the bouquet still clutched in one hand. "Marcus!" I protested, completely failing to hide my smile. "Tradition, Madeline. You don't argue with tradition," he said, his eyes shining with a mix of amusement and possessiveness that made me shiver inside. He didn't set me down right away. He stood there in the middle of the living room, holding me as if I were no more than a feather. His gaze traced my face, and the playfulness faded into a deep seriousness that made my heart start pounding. "This reminds me of the Maldives," he said, his voice soft, like a cares