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.

decorated hallways where Tuscan landscapes alternated with family photos captured in casual, intimate moments. "Mr. Marcus made sure everything was prepared for your arrival. But if you need anything else at all, just let me know. Gwen said goodbye in the main hall, promising we'd meet again at dinner and reassuring me once more that I was safe there. Safe. The word echoed in my mind as I followed Carmen up the wooden staircase,

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

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 window, there were books-not generic décor, but titles I recognized. Authors I

read them. How did Marcus know all of this? During our week in the Maldives, we had talked about many things, but I didn't remember 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 of the last few hours. The hot water

my head, and no future of my son at stake. When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a soft robe I'd found hanging on the door, there was a discreet knock at the bedroom door. My heart immediately kicked into overdrive. Was it Marcus?

her arms. Blue eyes. Exactly like Marcus's. For one terrifying, wonderful moment, I imagined