Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 551 Nicholas' POV "I'm fine," Gwen said. Even in the darkness, even without being able to see her face clearly, I could hear the effort she was making to keep her voice steady. To hold back the tears that were clearly on the verge of spilling over. I heard the bed creak as she sat up, her silhouette shifting in the faint glow cast by the lone lantern burning on the dresser. "Can I come in?" I asked, keeping my voice low and gentle. "Of course." I stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind me. I walked toward the bed, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light.

I could make out Gwen sitting on the edge of the mattress, her shoulders slumped, her head bowed. I could see the slight tremor in her hands as they rested in her lap. I sat beside her, the mattress sinking under my weight and causing our bodies to tilt subtly toward each other. I hesitated for only a second before lifting my hand to her face. My fingers brushed her cheek and came away damp. Fresh tears, still warm on her skin.

"If you're fine," I said softly, letting my hand stay there, my thumb tracing small, comforting circles against her cheek, "why are you crying?" I felt Gwen shudder beneath my touch. Then, as if a dam had finally burst, the words poured out of her in a desperate rush. "I'm scared," she confessed, her voice breaking. "Something feels wrong with me, Nick. The headache is back. It's really strong. And the dizziness sometimes it feels like the room is spinning." "Are you taking your medication the way you're supposed to?" I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. "Yes.

I take everything at the right times, just like the doctor said." Even so, I stood and went to the dresser where she had left her medicines. I lifted the lantern to get more light and quickly checked the bottles. I found the stronger painkiller, the one Doctor Marshall had prescribed specifically for post-traumatic headaches. I took the bottle, filled a glass with water, and returned to the bed. "Here," I said, placing the pill in her palm and offering her the glass. Gwen did as she was told without question, swallowing the pill with a long drink of water.

"Do you want to go to the doctor?" I asked. "I can try to take you now, even with the snow." "No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "It's not necessary. Maybe tomorrow morning, if I don't feel better." I nodded, even though I knew she probably couldn't see me clearly. Then she took a deep breath, and when she spoke

she caught herself and lowered it again. "He doesn't feel this sense of always being so close to remembering something. Like it's right there, at my fingertips. And when I feel like I'm finally going to touch it, like I'm going to grab the memory and bring it back... it

in you all the time. And I'm sure you're going to get better." "And what if I don't get better?" she asked, turning to face me even in the darkness. "You will get better." "And what if I don't?" she pressed,

help me with these new memories? Or the old ones? Maybe seeing photos of us together would

her voice. "Right. You can show me later, when the electricity comes back." "I can," I lied, feeling the weight of that lie settle on top of