Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 676 Gwen's POV For a second, | just stared at the microphone like it was a neutral object. Then | smiled. Polite enough not to turn into a headline. "Thank you for the question," | said in the same tone | would've used to answer something about cash flow or market expansion. "A child's emotional adjustment is a process, not an event. What usually works best, regardless of family structure, is consistency. Routine. Predictability. Age-appropriate communication. And an environment where the child feels safe expressing what they're feeling." | stopped there on purpose.

No "in my home." No "in my family." Nothing that could be twisted into ammunition. My job had always been choosing words the way | chose numbers. Carefully. With consequences in mind. Renee tilted her head slightly, like she was selecting the best angle for her next strike. It was subtle, but | recognized that body language. | grew up around people who smiled while they cut. ---- "I see," she continued, her calm perfectly calculated. "And what happens when that child shows clear signs of rejection? When she doesn't want the new person?

When she asks for her real mother?" A few people shifted in their seats. That collective movement of an audience that smells conflict and decides to stay for it. | saw the moderator hold her breath. One of the other panelists beside me squeezed her notebook like she was embarrassed on my behalf. | kept the smile. But | removed the warmth. "| answer questions related to the topic of the event," | said. "I don't discuss personal matters, mine or anyone else's, ina public setting." Renee's smile sharpened. "Oh. So you prefer to talk about 'women leaders' on stage...

but not about the real emotional impact of a woman leader at home. Especially when she... struggles to lead there. Interesting." My stomach tightened, but my face didn't shift. 'd learned early on that some people feed on micro-expressions. Give them an inch and they take a mile. | glanced at the moderator. She was clearly uncomfortable, searching for an elegant exit. | gave it to her before she had to ---- find one. "| prefer to talk about business, yes," | said, cool enough to make it clear | wasn't going to play along. "And more importantly, | prefer not to turn children into a spectacle.

are no further questions about leadership and career, | appreciate everyone's time." Applause started somewhere in the room. Tentative at first, then stronger, as if the audience was relieved to have permission to end the situation without feeling complicit in the drama. l inclined my head, smiled at the moderator, and handed back the microphone. | walked off the stage with cold hands and a burning neck, adrenaline rushing through me the way it only did in the toughest

low voice, like she was sharing a secret. "I was terrified that would turn into... you know. But you handled it with so much class. It was a success." "Thank you," | said. The word sounded right. Hollow. Inside, | felt ---- like | was holding a glass filled to the brim, trying not to let it spill. "The sponsors loved it. And the other panelists..." She gestured enthusiastically. "Let's grab one

When the final picture was done, | said I needed to touch up my makeup and walked quickly toward the restroom, like that was all it was. But really, | needed two minutes where no one looked at me like" the woman on stage." The bathroom looked empty. The kind of silence only expensive places have.

intact. | breathed in once. Twice. And | thought about Bella. Not the tantrum. The fear. The way ---- she had looked at me like | was an intruder in her world. This isn't about me, | told myself. And at the same time, it was. The door opened. Slowly. No rush.

and poisonous underneath. "After playing the example out there?" | stopped. Breathed. Turned back around. ---- Renee stepped closer. Not enough to touch me. Just