Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 643 Nicholas's POV Spending the night alone in Gwen's apartment was one of the strangest experiences of my life. I tried to make myself as invisible as possible, even though there was no one there to see me. | didn't want to leave traces. Didn't want to disturb anything. Didn't want it to look like someone had invaded her space. | took a quick shower in the massive marble bathroom, using the bare minimum and putting everything back exactly where | found it. Imade something simple for dinner with what | found in her perfectly organized pantry. Pasta. Jarred tomato sauce.

A little grated cheese. Afterward, | washed every dish carefully and returned each item to its precise spot. | slept in the guest room, not hers. That felt like too much of an intrusion. Even so, it took me hours to fall asleep. The bed was too comfortable. The silence too deep. Her absence too loud. Eventually, exhaustion won. ---- The next morning, | woke before sunrise. The sky was still dark when | got up, already preparing myself to head back to the hospital the moment visiting hours allowed it. | grabbed my phone to check the time. That's when | saw Paula's message. Sent at 5:43 a.m.

Apparently, she hadn't been sleeping either. "Nick, | confirmed it. KWJ Holdings is a Kensington subsidiary holding. I'm so sorry. Call me if you need to talk." | read the message three times. So Renee had been right. Gwen had bought my debt. And she hadn't told me. Not even when | asked her if there were any secrets left between us. Something tightened painfully in my chest, but | forced myself to shove it aside. Not now. | couldn't deal with that now. Gwen was in a coma, fighting for her life. That was what mattered. ---- The rest could wait.

| went downstairs to the kitchen and figured out how to operate her overly complicated coffee machine. The coffee came out strong enough to wake the dead. | was halfway through my first cup when the doorbell rang. Not the building intercom. The actual apartment doorbell. Which meant whoever it was already had access to the building. Family, probably. | walked quickly to the door and opened it. Zoey stood there, offering a tired but genuine smile. "Good morning," she said. "Sorry for showing up this early. | came to grab some of Gwen's documents. The hospital needs them.

her bedroom or maybe the office. The bedroom's upstairs, last door on the right. And the office... | actually have no idea where that is." Zoey laughed softly. "First floor, end of the hallway, before the winter garden." ---- She walked in like she knew the place by heart. "Christian and | used to stay here when we came to Florentia," she explained. "Before Gwen moved

of intimidating, isn't it?" Zoey said gently, studying me." The Kensington world." "What do you mean?" | asked. "| know that look," she continued, her tone softening. "I felt the exact same way at first. Like an outsider. Completely out of place. | think | understand you better than they do. Better than

| met Christian... all those differences. Status. Wealth. ---- Completely different worlds. They weighed on us too, in the beginning." | knew she was trying to give me perspective. Trying to make me feel less alone. But it wasn't

to-" "You're supposed to stop repeating structural sexism," Zoey interrupted gently but firmly. "What?" | asked, a little offended. Zoey smiled patiently. "Nick, love is supposed to matter more than money," she said gently. "More than who earns more, who pays for what, who provides. All those social rules about the man being the provider and the woman being

get it rationally," | said. "But | still want to feel like | belong in her world. In a real way." "You learn that with time," Zoey assured me. "With experience. With acceptance. With love." | let out a heavy breath. "It doesn't help that my estate