Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 528 Gwen's POV I hurled my phone against the opposite wall with every ounce of strength I had left. It hit with a deeply satisfying crack before dropping to the floor, the screen almost certainly shattered. Great. One more broken thing. Just like my memory. My sanity. My entire life, apparently. I sat on the edge of the bed, breathing hard, the burn of frustrated tears building behind my eyes. I wasn't going to cry. I refused. But damn it, it was infuriating. Fighting my own mind just to uncover basic things about myself. Things everyone should know. Simple things.

'Who am I?' The question echoed in my head with no answer. I stood and went to the suitcase, yanking it open and digging through it aggressively, tossing clothes aside without a second thought. I needed something. Anything that could give me a clue about who I really was. There were lots of clothes that were far too expensive. Cashmere, silk, Italian linen, shoes that probably cost more than most people made in a month, and a makeup bag packed with imported products. None of it helped.

Then my fingers brushed against something solid at the bottom of the suitcase, hidden beneath a layer of lingerie that definitely didn't belong to someone struggling financially. Documents. I pulled out the leather folder and opened it with trembling hands. There it was. My passport. Gwen Parker Kensington. Kensington. A chill ran down my spine, starting at the back of my neck and sliding down my back like icy fingers. My heart started racing for no clear reason, pure adrenaline flooding my veins. Kensington. Why did that name make me feel so... scared?

Why was there a voice screaming inside my head that no one could ever know that name? 1/6 It made no sense. None of this made sense. But the instinct was too strong to ignore. Without overthinking it, I shoved the documents back into the bottom of the suitcase, burying them under layers and layers of clothes. No one could see that. No one could know. But why? The question hung in the air, unanswered. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I needed something to organize my thoughts. Something tangible. I dug through my bag and found a small notebook and a pen.

paper might somehow make it all make sense. Name: Gwen Parker I paused. Should I write Kensington too? No. Something inside me told me not to. Age: 29 years old (found in documents) Profession: Digital marketing consultant specializing in rural tourism Marital status:

(same as Bella) I stared at what I'd written and felt like ripping the page out. It was pathetic. I knew nothing about myself. Nothing beyond dry, impersonal facts. 2/6 I tossed the pen onto the

photo. What kind of mother doesn't carry pictures of her child? Guilt hit me like a punch to the stomach. I had a daughter, and I couldn't even remember her face or her name. My phone. Of course. Everyone keeps

abstract photo of mountains at sunset. No clues there. I held the phone in front of my face, waiting for facial recognition to do its thing. Device locked. Enter passcode. What? I tried again. Device locked. Enter passcode. Why the hell had I turned off Face ID? Who does that? I tried to think of the password.

pure frustration tore out of my throat. I threw the phone again, this time onto the bed, where it bounced and thudded onto the floor. I was going to lose my mind. If I hadn't already. I needed to get out of there. I needed air. I needed anything that wasn't that suffocating room full of clues that led nowhere. I grabbed my coat and pulled it on quickly. Then I opened the door and left, heading down the stairs with fast, determined steps. 3/6

moment I stepped out, slicing into my lungs and making my eyes sting. But it was... refreshing. Real. Tangible. I walked across the snow-covered courtyard, following a stone path that led toward a barn or something like it. That was when I saw him. Nick stood a short distance away, near a pile of firewood. And he was shirtless. In this freezing cold, the man was shirtless, chopping wood. I watched, completely mesmerized, as he lifted the axe over his

I bit my lower lip without even realizing it, feeling something warm coil low in my belly. This man was my fiancé. How the hell did I get so lucky? As if he sensed my gaze, Nick stopped. He turned slowly, the axe still in his hand, and our eyes met across the distance. For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then he lowered the axe, resting it against a log, and started walking toward me. With every step, the muscles in his abdomen tightened slightly,