Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 654 Renee's POV For one very brief moment, the ground disappeared beneath my feet. | stared at the folder. At the documents. At the words jumping off the page like accusations screamed in bold ink. Investigation. Trafficking. Courier. Suspect. My heart slammed against my ribs. My hands went cold. How? How did they get this? That had been buried. Filed away. Locked inside bureaucratic drawers no one was supposed to access. And yet there it was. Sitting in front of me. Thrown in my face by Princess Kensington with that infuriatingly superior expression.

But then, just as quickly, instinct kicked in. My mind started working again. Investigation. Not conviction. Suspect. Not proof. ---- Closed. Due to lack of evidence. And | started to laugh "You do realize this is worth absolutely nothing, right?" | said once | caught my breath. Gwen looked at me with that icy composure. "You were a courier," she said as if it were an established fact. " No sane judge would grant custody of a child to someone involved in drug trafficking." | rolled my eyes dramatically. "This," | tapped the folder, "proves | was investigated.

And do you know what happened to that brilliant investigation?" | leaned forward and smiled. "It went nowhere. Lack of evidence. Case closed. Clean record." | let that settle between us. "Honestly, Gwen, | expected you to be smarter than this. If you're going to threaten me, at least do your homework properly. The way I do mine." | saw frustration flash across her face. ---- "The difference," she shot back, her voice still controlled but tighter now, "is that I'm not a criminal. | won't sink to your level and fabricate evidence." | laughed again. "Careful with your words," | warned sweetly.

you for slander." "This is all you want, isn't it?" Gwen accused, her voice rising slightly. "Any way you can get your hands on my money." | didn't answer right away. Because she wasn't completely wrong. The truth was, what they were accusing me of was entirely real. | had been a courier. Three times, to be exact. And | would deny it until my last breath if |

over ---- somewhere else. To survive while | searched for a new job, a new apartment, a new life. And someone who knew someone had offered me easy work. "Just pick up the suitcase. Take it to Ravona. Deliver it to the address." | knew exactly what | was carrying. | wasn't stupid. But | was desperate. That money didn't last long. Not nearly as long as I'd imagined. | started selling everything my ex had given me during our relationship.

Trying to maintain the lifestyle | was used to. Which turned out to be completely impossible. Then came the second time. Debt piling up. Credit cards maxed out. My landlord threatening eviction. Another "business trip." This time farther away. More money. And whatever was left after paying urgent bills... well, | invested in a

few... extra services at the destination. With a generous client who paid very well for discreet and sophisticated company during his stay. Altogether, it added up to a considerable amount. Enough

married. They probably already had one foot there And with Nick financially ruined, especially now with part of the estate burned and months of hospitality revenue gone,