Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 301 The first thing I noticed when I came back to consciousness was the familiar texture of Nate's Egyptian cotton sheets against my skin. My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the half-drawn bedroom curtains. For a brief, disoriented moment, I thought it had all been a horrible nightmare-the discovery about Wanderer, the devastating shock, the feeling that my entire world had collapsed. Then reality crashed back over me like a wave of ice, bringing every ounce of pain and betrayal with it. I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness made me pause.

That was when I realized I wasn't alone. A middle-aged woman in a discreet medical uniform was seated in an armchair near the bed, watching me with calm, professional concern. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her refined British accent unmistakable as she stood and stepped closer. " I'm Nurse Patricia. Mr. Carter called me when you fainted." "I... what happened?" I asked, even though I already knew. The memory of the discovery was crystal clear, every detail painfully sharp.

"You had a sudden drop in blood pressure," Patricia explained as she checked my pulse with practiced fingers." Most likely caused by intense emotional stress. It's more common than you'd think, especially after a significant psychological shock." I nodded silently, unwilling to explain what had triggered my "psychological shock." The nurse continued her brief exam, shining a small light into my eyes and asking how I felt. 11 "Your pressure is coming back up, but it's still a bit low," she said, putting her instruments away. "It's essential that you eat something.

Your body needs energy to fully recover, and stress can drain your reserves.' 11 "I'm not hungry," I murmured, even though I knew that wasn't true. The thought of food made my stomach. twist with nausea. "I understand, dear, but this isn't optional," Patricia said firmly. "I'll have something light brought in. Toast, and perhaps soup. Something your stomach can handle." She left the room, and I was alone with the chaos in my head. I looked around, taking in the small details that showed how quickly Nate had reacted.

just enough light. Somewhere in the apartment, I could hear muffled voices. It was probably Nate talking to someone, organizing more care. His attention should have comforted me. It should have made me feel cared for. Instead, it only fueled my confusion and anger. How could he be so gentle and attentive while hiding something so enormous from me? About fifteen minutes later, Patricia returned with a young woman carrying an

scent of vegetable soup and freshly made toast filled the room, and my stomach betrayed me with an involuntary growl. "Perfect," Patricia said, helping the woman set the tray on a small table beside the bed. "Chicken and vegetable soup, whole-grain toast, and chamomile tea. Nothing too heavy, but nourishing

example of Nate's over-the-top care, and somehow that only made me more irritated. 1/3 "Excellent," Patricia said when I finished, checking my blood pressure one last time. "It's almost back to normal. I'll leave you some instructions about hydration and rest, but I expect a full recovery. Just try to avoid unnecessary stress over the next few days." If only it were that simple. After Patricia left, I stayed alone in the heavy silence of the bedroom for nearly

worry and guilt. "Can I come in? Can we talk?" "Oh, now you want to talk?" I shot back, the sharp edge in my voice surprising even me. There was a pause before the door slowly opened. Nate stepped inside, looking exhausted and haunted. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair a mess, and

"I know you're angry," he said carefully. "And you have every right to be, but-" "I just want to know why you did this," I interrupted, my voice calmer than I expected. Nate let out a deep