Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 378 Madeline's POV "So, which of these options do you prefer?" The pastry chef smiled as she arranged an elaborate selection of eets on the white marble table of her boutique. The place was one of those expensive Belmonte spots-pale pink walls, crystal chandeliers, and a display case that looked more like a jewelry store than a bakery.

"We have gourmet pistachio chocolate truffles, coconut truffles with Brazilian nuts, caramel fudge bites made with artisanal dulce de leche, and mini Belgian chocolate éclairs that have been a huge hit at this season's events." I sat between Olivia and Vivian in one of the boutique's velvet armchairs, trapped in yet another endless session of perfect wedding preparations. My morning sickness had eased up that day, but the overly sweet, perfumed smell of the place still made my stomach churn. Every sugary scent felt like a reminder of the carefully constructed lie being built around me.

"At the last family party, they were delicious," Vivian said brightly, delicately picking up a coconut truffle to try it. "Too bad the bride ran away before she got a taste, right?" The pastry chef laughed politely, but I caught the flash of discomfort in her eyes. Everyone in Belmonte knew the official story-the sudden nervous breakdown, the stay at a luxury psychiatric clinic, the miraculous recovery, the triumphant return for a new wedding. Even so, comments like Vivian's made me want to sink into the chair and disappear.

"Well, this time we'll make sure everything goes absolutely perfectly," the pastry chef said diplomatically, refocusing on the neatly arranged samples. I picked up a caramel fudge and chewed it mechanically, trying to look genuinely interested in something that felt completely meaningless. What difference did the flavor of the sweets make when the entire event was an elaborate performance? When every guest would be there not to celebrate love, but to witness a business contract disguised as a ceremony?

sampled the sweets, made polite comments about texture and flavor, but I could feel her mind was somewhere else entirely. "I was thinking..." Olivia said suddenly, pulling

front of Vivian before. We usually kept our real closeness far from the constant, watchful eyes of my devoted maid of honor. "Yoga?" Vivian frowned instantly, suspicion flaring on instinct. "I'm not

under absolute, constant control. I knew it. Olivia knew it. And Vivian knew that we both knew. It was a game of words where everyone understood the unspoken rules. "Why don't you come too, Vivi?" Olivia pressed, flashing a smile so sweet it immediately made me uneasy. "It'll be fun,

direct competition, more control over others, and far less spirituality or self-reflection. "I really don't have time for that kind of-" she began, but Olivia cut her off with impressive skill. "Oh, but you really need to think about Madeline's well-being first and foremost, and the baby's," Olivia said,

so. And we all want the baby to be born perfectly healthy, don't we? Especially after all the traumatic stress the first wedding caused the entire family..." I watched Vivian hesitate visibly. Olivia was playing exactly the right psychological

mental distraction for Madeline," Vivian finally conceded, her carefully controlled voice betraying clear reluctance. "But I really can't participate myself. I have far too many important responsibilities to take care of before the wedding. Someone has to handle the practical details." I could practically see

Dominic couldn't easily add to the ever-growing budget dedicated to controlling the runaway bride. The pastry chef kept talking about decoration options for the sweets. Colors that matched the wedding theme, quantities based on the guest list, but my attention was locked entirely on the subtle power play unfolding between