Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 401 Marcus' POV Christian's office in the mansion had turned into our improvised command center. He was bent over his ma gany desk, surrounded by papers, speaking on the phone in a low but urgent voice. I paced back and forth near the windows, knowing that even though the cars had left the property, they couldn't have gone far. "The lawyers are reviewing all the documentation," Christian said after hanging up. "But formally contesting the medical reports is going to take time." "Time we don't have," I replied, turning to face him.

"Every minute we stand around doing nothing is another minute they use to strengthen their case." Christian sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "So what do you suggest?" "A helicopter," I said immediately. "We leave the property by air, fly straight to the airport. From there we take the jet and disappear before they have time to react." Christian studied me for a long moment, as if weighing whether the idea was even possible. Then he slowly shook his head. "It won't work," he said firmly.

"If we do that, by the time we get to the airport to board the jet, the police will be waiting for us. They'll claim we're kidnapping someone who's mentally unfit, resisting the authorities, fleeing with evidence. It would make everything worse." I knew he was right, but the feeling of helplessness was eating me alive. "So what's the alternative?" I shot back. "We sit here and wait for them to come back with a real warrant this time?" "For now, yes," Christian said, leaning back in his chair. "It's our best option at the moment." "That doesn't buy us much time," I argued, resuming my pacing.

I stopped pacing and looked straight at him. "And if there's nothing that can be done?" Christian hesitated for a split second before answering, and that

than ours?" Christian let out a laugh, but there was no real humor in it. 1/3 "We're Kensingtons," he said, the confidence in his voice almost automatic. "No one has better connections than we do." "I know," I admitted, finally sitting down in the armchair across from

"So what exactly are you suggesting?" "That we stop reacting and start acting," I said, adrenaline starting to surge through my veins. "That we investigate Dominic Blackwood. Find out how he got his hands on those fake medical reports. Dig up something we can use against him." "That would take more than a few hours," Christian pointed out. "Maybe weeks." "Not if we use the right resources," I argued. "You said

protect Madeline in the