Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 644 Nicholas' POV Forty-eight hours turned into seventy-two before | even realized time was passing. Everything blurred into a routine of hospital visits, the apartment, bad coffee, and medical updates that never said anything definitive. "Stable." "Responding well." "No significant changes." On the second day, Paula showed up at the hospital carrying a large suitcase. "L brought clean clothes," she said, pulling me into a tight hug. " And some toiletries. | figured you'd need them." Gratitude closed my throat "Thank you," | managed.

"You didn't have to come all the way here." "Of course | did," she replied simply. "How is she?" ---- "Stable," | repeated, the word losing meaning every time | said it. "Still in a coma. We'll know more when they wake her." Paula only stayed a few hours. She had to get back to the estate. But her presence, even brief, reminded me that life was still happening outside those hospital walls. | called my mom that night. She asked when | was coming home, if everything was okay, if | needed anything. "It's all fine," | lied automatically. "I'll be back soon." | didn't know if that was true.

Bella got on the phone next. Her small, worried voice shattered me. "Daddy, is Gwen going to get better?" "She is, sweetheart," | promised, trying to sound confident. "She just needs a lot of rest right now. But soon she'll be back playing with you." "Promise?" "| promise." Another promise | wasn't sure | could keep. After | hung up, | stood there staring at the dark screen for a long ---- moment. Bella needed me home. My mom needed help. The estate didn't stop running just because | was in Florentia. But Gwen... Gwen needed me here.

| went back to the hospital and headed straight for the café where | knew I'd find Christian. He seemed to exist between the waiting room and that place, just like | did. Not the main crowded cafeteria. A private VIP lounge reserved, apparently, for the families of critically ill wealthy patients. Quieter. More discreet. Much better coffee. We mostly talked about Gwen. Christian told me stories about her childhood I'd never heard before. About how stubborn she'd always been. Determined. Incapable of accepting no for an answer.

everything. Leave. She was just a kid, but she noticed everything." He took a sip of coffee. ---- "One day | came home after a terrible argument. | found her sitting on my bed with a suitcase open. She'd packed some clothes inside. Poorly folded, of course. When | asked what she was doing, she said, 'If you're

| smiled, picturing a tiny, fierce Gwen packing that suitcase. "So she's always been like that," | said. "Always," Christian replied, his voice softer. "Stubborn. Loyal. Incapable of leaving the people she loves to fend for themselves." We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then Christian asked about the estate. About the numbers. About my plans. And eventually, we circled back to the conversation we'd had

line. ' From Kensington Group." Christian looked at me closely. "Yes?" "Laccept," |

| asked, confused and a little offended. "Nick," he said, trying to control his laughter. "Do you really think Gwen is naive? Or that I wouldn't structure this in a way that prevents it from becoming a terrible business decision?" | waited for him to continue. "| don't know exactly what you've been told," Christian went on, his expression turning serious again, "but Gwen didn't just buy ---- your debt by itself." | frowned. "What do you mean?" "She bought an

"she's actually projected to make a solid profit from the overall operation. As long as this doesn't leak to the press and create a PR mess, we're more than fine. Technically speaking, she's in the black." He looked directly at me. "So if you want to move forward with the associated line, don't do it out of some 'I need to pay my debt' speech. Your debt is already absorbed