Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 684 Gwen's POV The house was too clean. Not clean in the organized sense. The house was always organized. | couldn't stand the idea of living in chaos. No, this. was clean in a different way. Prepared. Staged. Like I'd tried to sweep away the things you can't actually sweep. The problems. The police station. The humiliation of hearing my name spoken by an officer like | was some kind of public nuisance. I'd chosen a discreet blouse, my hair pulled back, makeup light enough that it didn't look like | was hiding anything.

At the same time, polished enough to hide what could be hidden. Nick was pretending to be calm. He wasn't. Bella, on the other hand, looked... normal. Too normal "It's going to be fine," Nick said quietly, his hand resting on my waist in a way that was too protective not to also be anxious. | nodded. Smiled. | was very good at looking like everything was under control. My stomach didn't believe me. ---- The doorbell rang with Italian punctuality, which irritated me for completely irrational reasons. | wanted delays. | wanted human flaws. | wanted anything that reminded me this wasn't a trial.

Nick went to answer it, but | was already one step ahead. Automatic. I'd always been the hostess. Even of my own tragedies. The man at the door looked like he'd stepped out of a handbook. Dark suit. Slim briefcase. Neutral expression trained not to reveal an opinion too soon. "Gwen Kensington?" he asked. "Yes." My voice came out steady. The voice | used in multimillion -dollar meetings. "Please, come in." He introduced himself with formal politeness. Name. Role. A mention of procedure. He didn't say interview. He didn't say investigation.

He said initial assessment, with the careful tone of someone choosing his words like he was walking on ice. Nick appeared at my side, his arm brushing lightly across Bella's back as she drifted closer to peek. "I'm Nicholas," he said. "Isabella's father." The man greeted Bella too. Not in a condescending way. Just kind. ---- "Hi, Bella. You doing okay?" Bella gave a small smile. Too polite for a child. The smile she used when she felt like she had to behave. "I'm fine." | gestured toward the kitchen. I'd chosen it on purpose. Light. Comfort. The smell of home.

on the counter. Store-bought, obviously, but convincing enough to pass. The man opened his briefcase. "I'm going to ask a few general questions. Then, if possible, I'd like to speak with Bella for a few minutes. Just the two of us." My entire body went on alert. Nick's did too. | could feel it in the air, the same impulse rising in both of us. No.

executive interviews. Objective. Clear. No drama. Nick answered with more emotion than

Bella. "Would it be okay if we talked for a few minutes, just us? You can help me understand what your routine is like. | promise it'll be quick." Bella nodded, glancing at Nick first.

Nick followed me with his eyes, lost, caught between obeying and disobeying. That was when | made a small motion with my hand. Barely noticeable. "Come." Nick hesitated for exactly one

became two adult ghosts, hidden behind bottles and wood, trying to control what cannot be controlled On the other side, the man began with simple questions. "Bella, tell me... what's it like living here?" ---- "It's... nice," she answered. "And what do you like

said my name, neutral and measured, made my skin prickle. "She..." Bella hesitated. "She's... nice." | closed my eyes for a second. Just one. Nice. That was it. One small adjective. But in that kitchen, it felt like a trophy. "And when you're with your mom, what do you do?" Bella listed things. Ice cream. Outings. "Shopping." Movies. Things that sounded like rewards.

---- Nick went rigid next to me. "What kind of change?" "My dad... gets busy." My heart skipped. "Busy with what?" "Grown-up stuff," she replied. | recognized that phrase. Exactly how a child talks when she wants to be taken seriously but doesn't have the words. The man asked the right question. "and how does