Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 507 Christian's POV The paramedics worked on Marcus with clinical efficiency-fast, precise, practiced. I sat beside him in the ambulance, watching every movement, every vital check, every adjustment to the equipment connected to my cousin. He was pale. Too pale. And far too still for someone who usually couldn't stay quiet for more than five minutes. They'd stabilized him on-site before loading him onto the stretcher. Stopped the bleeding. Pumped fluids. Done all those things medical professionals do when someone's been shot. But I wasn't a doctor.

All I could see was my cousin-pale, unconscious, blood still staining his torn shirt. The ambulance sped through the night, the siren wailing. Every bump in the road made my stomach tighten as I imagined the pain Marcus would be in if he were awake. And then, halfway to the hospital, his eyes opened. Slowly. With visible effort. He blinked several times, trying to focus. "Marcus," I said immediately, leaning closer. "Hey. I'm here." His eyes finally locked onto mine. Confused. Disoriented. But awake. And the first word out of his mouth was- "Madeline?" My chest tightened. Of course.

Of course that was it. Even shot, even barely conscious, his first thought was her. "We're taking you to the hospital. You're going to be okay," I said, keeping my voice as calm and steady as I could. But he wasn't listening. His eyes scanned the inside of the ambulance, searching. And when he didn't find her, the confusion on his face turned into panic. "Madeline," he repeated, trying to sit up. The paramedic immediately pressed a firm hand to his shoulder, stopping him. "Sir, you need to stay still. You've been shot.

You can't move." But Marcus kept trying anyway, pain flashing across his face with the effort. "Aurora," he said now, his voice hoarse and frantic. "Where's Aurora? Where is... where's my daughter?" 1 I considered lying. Telling him Madeline and Aurora were fine. That everything was under control and they were waiting for him at the hospital. That he could relax and focus on getting better. It would've been better for him, right? Less stress. Less worry. Let him get through surgery without the weight of knowing his daughter was still in Dominic's hands and that Madeline- But I couldn't do it.

saw it-the memory coming back. The horror. The fear. "Vivian," he whispered, and the pain in his voice had nothing to do with the gunshot. "She... she..." "It's okay," I cut in gently. "You don't need to push yourself right now. Just-" But he interrupted me. His hand grabbed mine with surprising strength for someone who'd just been shot. "Tag," he said, the word dragged out with effort. I frowned. "What?" He swallowed hard, clearly

was already there, checking the monitors, adjusting something on the IV. "It's okay," the paramedic assured me, seeing the panic on my face. "I just increased the sedative. He needs

cousin. "He was shot." "Yes," the paramedic agreed. "But the bullet passed through the upper trapezius muscle, right here in the shoulder." He pointed. "Extremely painful. Probably knocked him out from the pain alone. He bled a lot, which always looks worse than it is. But it didn't hit any vital organs. No major arteries. No bone.

would've been much easier to hit the heart, the lung, the head-lethal areas. But to hit that exact spot on the

turned back to checking the equipment. I stayed there, staring at Marcus, thinking. Vivian had shot him. There was no doubt about that. But had she missed? Had she failed to kill him out of sheer incompetence? Or had she... had she hit exactly where she meant to? "Tag." Marcus's whispered word suddenly echoed in my head, and my eyes widened. Tag. Madeline. Tag. I grabbed my phone immediately and called one of the officers who had stayed behind at the warehouse to process the scene. "The phones," I said the second he answered. "Marcus's phone and