Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 388 Madeline's POV The Kensington mansion in Highridge rose before us like something straight out of a fairy tale. When the car f...ally stopped at the top of the hill, I understood exactly what Gwen had meant by private paradise. It wasn't just the imposing architecture, with its pale stone walls contrasting against the dark roof, or the lush gardens stretching in every direction. It was something more. It was a feeling that time moved differently there, as if we were outside the real world, beyond Dominic and Vivian's reach.

"Those are the main vineyards," Gwen said excitedly as we got out of the car, her voice full of family pride. " Christian modernized the entire irrigation system last year. And over there, way down in the distance, are Zoey's vineyards. He's obsessed with them." I tried to follow along, but my mind was too overwhelmed.

It felt like I was seeing everything through a haze, catching only fragments-the endless rows of vines disappearing into the horizon, the scent of ripe grapes mixed with the cool mountain air, the distant sounds of workers tending the plants with the practiced precision of people who had been doing this for generations. "If you want, we can take a tour later." We were greeted at the main entrance by a woman who radiated the warm efficiency of someone who had managed a household for decades.

Her hair was pulled into a flawless bun, and her kind eyes assessed me discreetly before lighting up with a genuine smile. "Miss Madeline," she said, holding out her hands with an ease that suggested welcoming pregnant fugitives was part of her daily routine. "I'm Carmen, the housekeeper. Welcome to our home." Our home. As if I already belonged there. As if I weren't a stranger who had arrived on a private jet carrying nothing but the problems I'd managed to escape with.

for your arrival. But if you need anything else at all, just let me know. Gwen said goodbye in the main

on the second floor, with wide windows that offered a breathtaking view of the vineyards. It was spacious yet cozy, decorated in neutral tones that immediately calmed me. A king-sized bed dominated the room, dressed in sheets that looked like they belonged in a luxury design magazine. "The bathroom is there," Carmen said, pointing to a door on the right. "And this is the closet Mr. Marcus organized especially for you." When she left, finally giving me privacy, I walked toward the closet

my size-they were my style. Casual dresses in soft, flowing fabrics. Blouses in colors I actually wore. Pants with discreet elastic waistbands. There was even lingerie, in gentle tones and 1/3 comfortable cuts, showing a level of attention to detail that made my cheeks heat. On the vanity, I found a neatly arranged selection of makeup, like something out of a high-end department store. On the shelf near the

mentioning such specific preferences. Unless he was the kind of man who noticed details most people would consider insignificant. The thought warmed me from the inside and terrified me at the same time. I decided to take a quick shower, hoping to wash away the tension

no future of my son at stake. When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a soft

holding a baby who looked about a year and a half old. But what made me stop breathing for a full second was the pair of crystal-clear blue eyes staring back at me from her arms. Blue eyes. Exactly like Marcus's. For one terrifying, wonderful moment, I imagined my own son looking at me with those same eyes. Was that what I wanted? For my child to be the son of a man I'd only known for a week? At least it seemed better than the other option... didn't it? I