Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 403 Madeline's POV The car glided through the streets of Belmonte in a tense silence that pressed against my chest like an invisible har I stared out the window, watching the city pass by like a movie where I was nothing more than a spectator. Olivia sat beside me, her fists clenched tightly in her lap, clearly making a heroic effort to keep herself under control. I could feel the anger radiating off her like heat.

In the passenger seat, my mother obsessively checked her purse, pulling out the same documents and putting them back again and again, while my father drove with his jaw locked, refusing to look at me in the rearview mirror. "Where are we going?" I asked, finally breaking the suffocating silence. My mother didn't even turn to look at me. "To a place where you can receive proper treatment," she replied, her voice trying to sound maternal but carrying a coldness that made my skin prickle. "What treatment?" I pressed, panic climbing up my throat. "I don't need any treatment.

I'm pregnant, not crazy." "Madeline, sweetheart," my mother sighed, finally turning to face me, "you ran away from your own wedding, disappeared for a week, and married a complete stranger in a matter of days. That's not the behavior of someone who's stable." "I ran away because I found out Dominic is a criminal!" I snapped, losing the patience I'd been fighting to keep. "Because I found out he wanted to use the parks to launder money from illegal casinos!" My father hit the brakes a little harder than necessary at the next red light.

"These are your fantasies, Madeline," he said, his voice heavy with the kind of parental authority that used to make me obey when I was a child. "Dominic is a respected businessman." "Respected?" Olivia finally exploded. "You're so blind you can't even see that Madeline married a Kensington! He could genuinely help the parks out of love for Madeline and this baby, but no. You'd rather do everything the dirty way!" My mother let slip something that sounded like, "It's not just about that..." But she was immediately silenced by a sharp look from my father.

with every unspoken word. "Mom," I

but I didn't recognize the area. Just anonymous commercial buildings and a few neatly trimmed trees. "W re here," my mother announced with forced cheerfulness. Olivia frowned

Institute - Integrated Treatment in Psychiatry and Psychology. My stomach dropped. "You're taking me to a psychiatric hospital?" I asked, stunned. "It's a rest clinic," my father corrected, finally meeting my eyes through the rearview mirror. "For people who need time to emotionally reorganize." I

you," I said, my voice coming out calmer than I felt. Even so, I didn't resist when my father got ou of the car and opened my door. I remembered Marcus' words. He would fight for me, and I would fight too. But fighting didn't necessarily mean making a scene that would

anything happens to me, tell the Kensingtons everything." The admission process felt surreal. Papers were signed. Questions were asked. Answers were given as if I weren't even there. My mother provided a medical history I had never heard before, full of supposed "episodes" and "erratic behavior" that allegedly went back years. When it was time to