Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 66 +25 Bonus The Castorian sun was setting behind the hills, painting the vineyards in golden and scarlet tones. I sat on the old stone wall that circled one of the villa's terraces, idly turning the wine glass in my hand. Below, the valley stretched out like a perfect mosaic of vines, olive trees, and cypresses-a beauty that seemed to mock the chaos boiling inside me after my encounter with Francesca. "I've known Christian since we were kids." Her words kept echoing in my mind. Another lie, another layer of secrets.

I was tired of finding out that nothing was ever what it seemed when it came to Christian Kensington. I heard footsteps approaching over the terrace stones and recognized his stride without needing to look. Christian stopped beside me, a sigh slipping from his lips before he sat on the wall, keeping a cautious distance between us. "Sorry I left you alone with her," he began, his voice low. "It wasn't by choice." I took a sip of wine, letting the silence stretch between us. I wasn't about to make things easier for him. Not this time.

"So," I finally said, still not looking at him, "you and Francesca have known each other since childhood. Not for four years from some wine fair." It wasn't a question. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his shoulders slump slightly. "Zoey, I..." "I'm tired of lies, Christian," I cut him off, finally turning to face him. "Every day I discover something new about you that contradicts what you told me before. I'm starting to wonder if anything you've said since we met is true." He ran a hand through his hair-that gesture I already knew meant discomfort.

My grip on the glass tightened. "Then tell me," I challenged, locking my eyes on his, "what's the big secret behind something so simple? Why pretend she was a stranger to you until recently?" Christian turned his gaze toward the horizon, his face drowned in golden shadows. "Because the

forget for so long that sometimes I almost manage to believe it never happened." "What story?" I asked, my throat tight. He drew in a deep breath, as if gathering strength. "Francesca and I weren't just neighbors. We were childhood friends who became... more. As teenagers, we started a relationship. We were young, reckless, thought we could change the world." His

felt like the world stopped. Of all the things I had imagined, this one had never even made the list. "Pregnant?"

silence fell between us. I tried to imagine teenage Christian hearing that news. A child he would never meet. "The families decided to bury the whole case completely. Pretend it never happened, that Francesca and I never had anything more than neighborly politeness. The story of the child and the forced abortion was never meant to come out." He swallowed hard. "We didn't see each other for years. I never knew what

told you about Francesca... I instinctively leaned on that same lie. Saying I met her at the fair meant I didn't have to relive that pain." My initial anger started to ebb, replaced by a reluctant understanding. "I get why you didn't want to tell me all this," I said at last. "But I can't help wondering how many other things you're hiding from me. How many more buried stories are out there.