Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 685 Gwen's POV The question landed in the kitchen like a glass dropped on marble. | couldn't hear it shatter from inside the wine cellar, but | felt the vibration move straight through me. Nick stopped breathing. | could tell by the way his shoulders locked up, like the air had suddenly become too heavy to pull in. Bella answered too fast. "My mom's." No pause. No little "um" while she thought. No "can | say something else?" the way she did when she was torn between two choices. It was dry. Clean. Immediate. An answer that sounded... prepared.

Nick made a low sound, almost a choke, like he'd taken a punch to the stomach and was still trying to stand upright. His hand went to the wall for support as his knees started to give. | dropped down beside him without thinking. "Breathe," | whispered, close to his ear. "Breathe. It doesn't mean anything. She loves you." ---- He looked at me, and there was something so raw in his eyes that for a second I hated myself for ever believing "we'll figure it out" was enough. "She said it fast," he murmured. "Too fast." "Il know." My hand slid up his forearm. "But she's a child.

And..." | swallowed before saying her name. "Renee knows exactly which buttons to push." He shut his eyes, like he could erase the image of his own daughter saying it. "Even so... it carries weight, doesn't it?" His voice came out low and fractured. "Stuff like that carries weight." | took a breath. Then another. | needed my tone steady. | couldn't let panic take over. "It does," | admitted. "But weight isn't a sentence. We'll prove what she's doing." He let out a humorless laugh. "How? She doesn't leave traces, Gwen." held his gaze "Everyone leaves traces," | said.

My voice came out harder than | ---- meant it to, because | was angry. "You just have to know where to look." He opened his mouth like he was going to argue, like he was about to say | was being naive... but then a chair scraped across the kitchen floor. The sound filtered through the vent, sharp enough to remind us the real world was still happening just a few feet away. I made a small gesture with my hand. Almost a silent command. Get up. The evaluator wasn't leaving without speaking to both of us. And as much as it hurt, the worst thing Nick could do was walk in looking like a man begging.

him. We stepped out of the wine cellar, and it was almost ridiculous how | knew every detail of that house, yet in that moment it felt unfamiliar. Like | had to walk through a place that was already mine on borrowed permission. The living room looked exactly the way I'd left it. Too tidy. Too spotless. The coffee table perfectly clear. Everything screamed ready for evaluation, like the house itself was trying to prove it was

was already straight. If anyone looked at me, they'd think: Gwen Kensington is nervous. | preferred if it looked like energy. Bella came into the living room first. Small steps. Neutral expression. That new neutrality that had been giving me chills ever since the day she'd said, "You're not my mom." Behind her, the man in the

anxiety. You've been cooperative, and that counts." That counts. | almost laughed. As if love could turn into points ona chart.

a soft, awkward "okay." He looked back at us. "Have a

his gaze to her. | could see the effort it took not to let the pain show in a way she could reach out and touch. "I'm okay, baby," he said, his voice almost normal. Almost. " Come here." He opened his arms. Bella went. And | watched from