Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 271 Annie: Do you think we always know how to recognize the right moment... or do we only realize it when it's already too late? Wanderer: Maybe the right moment doesn't exist. Only the right person. And what we do, or fail to do when they show up. Wanderer: Which brings me to my eighth question: would you forgive someone who messed up... while trying to do the right thing? Annie: I think sometimes we do the right thing... but at the wrong time. And the universe isn't always generous with second chances. So... yes. I would forgive them.

But I don't know if I could ever go back to exactly the same place. Because the right moment... might be the one thing you can't recreate. Annie: And speaking of the right moment... would you hate me if I confessed that I think... this isn't ours? Wanderer: Is that your ninth question? Annie: I think I want to leave the tenth one open. Maybe... for the right time. Wanderer: I could never hate you, Annie. Some connections exist just to remind us who we are... even if they don't last. And if this isn't our moment... that's okay. I'll keep what we had with fondness. Not bitterness.

Wanderer: And who knows... maybe one day we'll run into each other out there. I'll take you out for artichoke and Sicilian lemon pizza-my favorite. Ninth question: what's yours? Annie: Margherita. Simple, predictable... but comforting. Annie: Have a good life, Wanderer. Wanderer: Have a good life, Annabelle Castle Bennett. "Done," Gwen said, walking up to my desk with that teasing little smirk of hers. "You can have your phone back. 11 I took the phone from her hands, still feeling that strange mix of relief and sadness after the whole conversation with Wanderer.

There was something so final about that goodbye that it left a knot in my throat, like I was closing a chapter before fully understanding what it had meant. "And?" I asked, curious about her reaction. "What did you think?" "I imagine it was hard," Gwen said, studying me with that perceptive look she always used when she was trying to read a situation. "But... speaking of which, things are getting pretty serious between you and Nate, aren't they?" My face heated instantly.

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to fit into neat little labels. "It's not exactly like that..." I said evasively, shuffling some papers on my desk to avoid her

dismissive tone, as if she wanted to downplay something. "It's your name," she said simply. "I know," I shot back, leaning forward in my chair. "But I never told him that. Not

walk away from my desk. But something in me refused to let it drop. A strange feeling-a suspicion that had started as a small itch-was now growing fast, spreading like a

feeling suspicion coil tighter with every word, "and you don't care?" She finally turned back to me,