Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 594 Nicholas' POV It was Wednesday morning, and | was thinking about Gwen. In truth, | hadn't stopped thinking about her since I'd let her walk away like that. Since I'd watched her head back into the house, her back straight despite the pain | knew she was feeling. Since I'd heard her car leave the property a few hours later without us exchanging another word. | had been holding my phone for fifteen minutes, the message screen open to her name. The cursor blinked in the empty text box, taunting me. Mocking my inability to type something. Anything.

"lm sorry." "You were right." "Lmessed everything up." Any of those would have worked. But my fingers wouldn't move. Because deep down, | knew she had every right to be angry with me. For not owning up to what was clearly growing between us ---- For calling her "just a friend" when we both knew it was so much more than that. But what else could | do? What, exactly, did | have to offer Gwen? An unstable life where she had to take on debt in her own name to save me? Moving to a rural estate in Castoria when she was clearly a city girl?

Giving up her life in Florentia for a broke man with a young daughter and endless problems? No, This was better. Staying just friends. Business partners. Nothing more. locked my phone and set it down on the desk harder than necessary. That was when | heard the front door open. | stood up from my chair at the reception desk, frowning. We weren't expecting any new guests today. Aman walked in wearing an impeccable dark suit despite the heat. He had a black leather briefcase tucked under his arm and a serious expression that came from years of doing a job no one was ever happy to receive.

---- My stomach dropped before he even spoke. "Mr. Nicholas Valemont?" he asked, his voice formal and professional. "Yes," | replied, already bracing myself. "Lam court officer Dominic Cruise," he said, pulling a thick envelope from his briefcase. "| have a formal notice that must be delivered to you personally." He held out the envelope. | took it, trying to keep my hands steady. They were shaking slightly. "It is a formal request for visitation," the officer explained, his tone neutral but not unkind. "Ms. Renee Sandler is requesting legal visitation rights with the minor Isabella Valemont.

document." | opened the envelope on the spot and pulled out the papers. The words seemed to jump off the page: Maternal rights. Supervised visitation Best interests of the minor. Objection must be filed in writing within fifteen days. "Do you understand everything, Mr. Valemont?" the officer asked. ---- "Yes," | lied. Because | didn't understand anything. | didn't

with it And yet, by late Friday morning, we were sitting in a gelato shop in the center of Montelira Me. Bella. And two cups of gelato slowly melting on the table between us. | took her small hand in mine, squeezing gently. "I'm going to be right here with you the whole time, okay?" | said for the tenth time since we'd left home. "And if you want to leave

was a grand arrival. Tight dress. High heels. Designer handbag. Oversized sunglasses covering half her face. Elegant in a way that felt studied. Calculated to impress.

you?" Bella didn't answer. She looked at me, then at her gelato, then anywhere except at Renee. An uncomfortable silence settled over the table. "So..." Renee tried again. "How's school? Do you like your teacher?" ---- "Yes," Bella

was a beautiful party." Bella didn't answer this time. She just went back to stirring her melting gelato. Renee glanced at me, frustration beginning to crack the edges of her controlled expression.