Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 668 Gwen's POV The municipal building wasn't romantic. It was beautiful in its own way. Old stone. A wide staircase. A flag drifting lazily outside. But it wasn't the kind of place you chose because you wanted a "setting." It was the kind of place you chose because you had to. And right now, | had to. I carried the documents in a slim folder, as if paper alone could hold an entire home upright. My heels echoed down the tall corridor, and | found myself noticing things I'd normally ignore. The sharp click of my steps. The scent of waxed floors.

Sunlight filtering through stained glass without ceremony. Nick walked beside me. Not in a perfect suit. Not like the man he could be at some glossy magazine party. Just put together in the way he did when he wanted to look calm and absolutely wasn't. Light shirt. Dark jacket. That quiet, capable energy of someone who builds things with his hands, even if today's fight was different. Christian trailed behind us, tapping at his phone with the focus of someone trying to manage the world through text messages. ---- And Martina...

Martina was quieter than I'd ever seen her, like she was holding something tight inside her chest so it wouldn't spill out too soon. The witnesses. Just the four of us. Simple. Clean. Fast. Like pressing a bandage firmly into place. No slow peeling. Nick squeezed my hand in the hallway, and | squeezed back. "Gwen," he said softly before we turned the corner toward the office where everything would become official. | stopped. Looked at him. He hesitated, and | saw the question before he asked it. "Are you sure?" Nick's voice was gentle, but the worry in it was real.

that. A part of me always had. But another part, the one that had learned how to survive, looked ---- at what was at stake and chose what

stability. To give Renee less ammunition and Bella more solid ground." | saw something shift in his face, like a quiet guilt had just been dragged into the light. He opened his mouth, but lifted my hand to stop him. | didn't want a speech. | wanted

was a small gesture, too intimate for a place like that. "| love you," he whispered. "know," | said, and my mouth

not to cry too soon. The clerk asked for our documents. | handed mine over. Nick handed over his. She checked everything, typed, printed. The bureaucracy moved like an indifferent machine, and yet my ---- heart pounded as if | were stepping up to an altar. When she started reading the terms, something unexpected hit

calm. Nervous, yes. But calm. Like this decision had finally clicked something into place that had been loose inside me for far too long. "Gwen Kensington," the clerk said, looking at me, "do you accept?" My "yes" came out clear. It wasn't a fairy-tale yes. It was the yes of a woman choosing to fight for her family. "Nicholas

a promise." | swallowed. "| promise you'll never be alone," he said. "Not when I'm scared. Not when life is loud. Not when we're exhausted. I'll stay. And I'll ---- choose you, every day." He slid the ring onto my finger. The gesture was simple. And enormous. My turn.