Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 486 Marcus' POV I opened the apartment door carrying several grocery bags, carefully balancing everything while using my foot to kick the door shut behind me. I'd gone out to pick up a few things Madeline had mentioned craving- including that very specific brigadeiro she could only find at a pastry shop on the other side of the city. "Madeline?" I called out, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. There was no immediate answer, but I heard the sound of typing coming from the living room. I quickly put away the refrigerated items and went to see what was going on.

I found Madeline seated at the dining table, her laptop open in front of her, an intensely focused expression on her face. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn't even notice me until I came closer. "What happened?" I asked, a flicker of concern rising when I saw how serious she looked. She glanced up at me and forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Nothing..." she said, then gestured toward the laptop screen. "Zoey helped me draft an 'un-invitation." She made air quotes with her fingers, and I couldn't help letting out a soft laugh at the creative phrasing.

"Can I see it?" I asked, leaning in to read over her shoulder. Madeline angled the screen toward me slightly, and I read the opening lines of the formal statement announcing the indefinite postponement of the Sullivan Parks inauguration. The wording was diplomatic but firm, citing "unforeseen circumstances" and a "commitment to excellence," without directly mentioning the methanol scandal tied to Kensington. "Zoey really knows how to use words," I said, impressed by how carefully it was written. "No wonder she's Kensington's PR director," Madeline replied with a half-smile.

"Apparently she has plenty of experience turning crises into 'strategic reassessment opportunities."" I leaned in closer, brushing a soft kiss against her lips before asking, "So it's official? You're really convinced we should postpone the opening?" Madeline nodded, her smile fading completely. "You and Christian are right," she admitted with a sigh. "This isn't the time to celebrate." I gently cupped her face in my hands. "But when the moment comes," I said firmly, "it's going to be huge.

that followed passed in a haze of controlled tension and calculated waiting. With all Kensington products pulled from the global market, the methanol poisonings finally stopped completely. It was a bitter kind of relief-we had prevented future deaths, but at the cost of six lives already

to affected families. This wasn't about protecting the company anymore; it was about

piece of evidence was meticulously cataloged-photographed, recorded, logged. We were building a case so solid it would

shipment-times, routes, destinations. Information that wouldn't just implicate Dominic, but could map out the entire distribution chain from start to finish. Another infiltrator, a secretary at Montgomery, managed to gain access to the company's corporate

day that passed was another day Dominic could discover what we were doing and destroy the evidence-or worse, eliminate the witnesses. Thé problem was:

the appetite of someone who'd finally rediscovered the pleasure of food. "The problem is," I said, twirling my fork in the pasta, "we need to know exactly who to give all of this to. Christian is digging through his contacts, trying to

mentioned contacts at Interpol," I went on. "And there's a chance of involving Valentian authorities, since Kensington's headquarters are registered there. But every jurisdiction has its own 2/4 protocols.