Semua Bab Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Bab 711 - Bab 720

Renee's POV After the incident, Isabella got worse. Not worse in the pretty way people like to pretend they understand. Traumatized. Sensitive. In need of comfort. No. Worse in the practical sense. More alert. More suspicious. Harder to bend. Before, I had a child who complained and then obeyed. Now, I had a child who watched. And a child who watched became a risk. I had already managed to sidestep the negligence narrative once. That whole "orchestrated kidnapping" story had worked better than I expected, because it was exactly what people wanted to believe. That the rich, pregnant, meddling wife was jealous. That the father had been complicit. That the girl had been used like a pawn. It was a spectacle. And I was good at spectacle. But spectacle doesn't survive repetition. Isabella needed to fall back in line. She needed to become predictable again. That night, she was sitting on the living room rug with a set of blocks scattered around her. Building something th

Renee's POV "What?" he replied, too quickly. "No one sent me… I saw your profile and… and…" I tilted my head, just enough for him to understand what I was hearing. And judging. "You're cute, you know that?" I said with a small smile. "But you don't know how to lie." He blinked. I finished, unhurried, like someone who had already reached the end of the road. "It was Kensington, wasn't it?" "Who?" he shot back, feigning confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about." I let the silence do its work. Men always give themselves away in the space between the question and the answer. In that space, the body decides. And his body had decided badly. Of course it was. Of course it was Gwen. For some reason, she erased the real Bella. And that was exactly why she was dangerous. Because love made Bella obey without fear. Made my daughter trust. Made my daughter choose. And choice was the one luxury I could not allow that child to have. And I saw, even more clearly

Gwen's POV Lunch with Mia was exactly what I promised Nick it would be. A controlled break. A public place. A conversation that looked normal to anyone watching from the outside. Mia talked about the chaos at headquarters. The sideways glances. How certain members of the board had already settled on their version before any investigation had even begun. I listened, responded, sorted priorities in my head the way I always did. But under the table, my leg wouldn't stop bouncing. Every sentence from Mia was a reminder that time had become the enemy. That I was fighting two wars at once. The one making headlines and the one happening inside a house in Montelira, behind a locked door. Matthew's plan was still there, spinning, fitting pieces together on its own, like my brain didn't know how to shut off. He was right about one thing. We could still catch her. Just not today. Not right now. Today I was putting the plan in a mental drawer and locking it. Today I was going to be a w

Gwen's POV The checkout counter felt smaller than it was, like the bags. Many, organized, with tissue paper and understated ribbons. Were taking up space inside me too. Space I was trying to keep clear. The saleswoman scanned each item with almost elegant efficiency. I stood beside Nick watching, and for one rare moment I could feel the good weight of the scene. The two of us buying baby things like a normal couple. Like the world wasn't constantly trying to walk into our living room and decide how we should exist. "Perfect," the saleswoman said when she finished the last item in the system. "We'll arrange delivery. What address should we use?" The question hung in the air with the simplicity of something obvious. And even so, my body froze for a second. Nick's did too. We looked at each other. It wasn't dramatic. It was clean, direct. Like the question had pulled on a thread we'd been avoiding holding. On any other day, I would have answered automatically, without th

Gwen's POV I moved with ease. Greeted a staff member, slipped along the side of the gallery, and stepped into the coat check area where guests' bags and jackets were stored with numbered tags. I pushed open the door to a smaller room reserved for staff. The air was different. More stifling. More real. "So," I asked before the door even closed. "Did it work?" Matthew and Dante were sitting at a narrow table, like it was an improvised war meeting. Next to them, a shorter man, focused, with an open laptop and cables I didn't want to identify. Paul. I only knew two things about him. That he understood technology very well… and that his skill set didn't stop at what was permitted. Matthew looked up at me, and I saw the same exhaustion that had been following me for weeks. Only in him it always looked more contained. Like he was afraid of wasting energy on anything that wasn't useful. "We got the phone," he replied. "Paul's working on it." Paul didn't even look at me. His f