Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

I watched Madeline look at him again. She visibly shuddered at the sight of his body sprawled there, blood still pooling on the garden floor he'd so carefully decorated. And yet, even with all that revulsion written across her face, she couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Why revenge?" she corrected, looking back at me. Something tightened in my chest. I had never told this story to anyone. Not like this. Not fully. But Madeline wasn't a stranger anymore, was she? Not after everything.

Not after everything she'd gone through because of me. Not after she'd watched me kill Dominic right in front of her. She deserved to know. She deserved to understand. Even if she never forgave me. Even if she couldn't forgive me. "It was seven years ago," I began, and my voice came out different. Weaker. Younger somehow. Like I'd been dragged back to that time. I blinked fast, pushing back the tears threatening to surface. "I have a sister, you know?" I went on, forcing the words out. "A younger one. Cecilia." Saying her name still hurt. It always did. Madeline didn't say anything.

She just stood there, waiting, her arms crossed over her chest like she was protecting herself. Or holding herself together. Probably both. "My mom was always a hard worker," I said, my throat tightening just thinking about her. "She worked two jobs to support us when we were kids, after our father died in a car accident. I was seven. Cecilia was three." I walked over to one of the empty chairs and dropped into it. My legs couldn't hold me up anymore. "Even though I was only four years older," I continued, staring at my hands, "I took care of her. Fed her. Took her to school.

mother too. Before I even understood what that really meant." I could see Cecilia so clearly in my mind. Brown hair in little braids. A gap-toothed smile. The way she used to hold my hand whenever she was scared. 1/4 she's just out having fun and forgot to call."" My voice rose, cracking. "They did everything they could to shift the blame onto my sister! A nineteen-year-old girl who had never

spilled down my face, and I didn't even try to wipe them away. "They barely did anything to find her," I whispered. "Barely anything." I looked at Madeline through blurred vision and saw her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes were shining

closed my eyes again-but the image was already there. It always would be. Burned into my mind forever. "The state she was in..." My voice completely failed. I tried again. "I will never forget it. Not if I live to be a hundred." I opened my eyes and looked straight at Madeline. "The marks on her body. Bruises. Purple. Red. Some already turning yellow. On her arms. Her legs.

face with the back of my hand, but the tears kept coming. "It wasn't the police who found her," I said bitterly. "No. Not despite all the searches they should've done. All the resources they should've used. She just... appeared. She rang our doorbell