Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 252 Nathaniel's POV I'd been sitting in my office for twenty minutes, staring at my phone like it might magically deliver the solution to the mess my life had become. Annie's message had arrived hours after I told her about the suspension, and every word hit with the precision of a knife. Annie: When I chose to trust. Because I think vulnerability is that: trusting someone to catch you... and realizing they choose not to stay when the fall starts. It works for love, friendship, even work. Because in the end, it all feels the same. The 'funny' part?

They always say being vulnerable is brave. But no one warns you that sometimes courage comes with a broken heart or a suspension letter. I read the message for the fifth time, feeling the weight of every line. She'd written it thinking she was opening up to some anonymous, understanding stranger-someone who could comfort her from a distance without fully grasping what she was going through. But I understood. I understood every reference, every layer of frustration. The "suspension letter" wasn't a metaphor for her. It was real.

It was the document I'd had to hand her myself, watching the trust in her eyes collapse into disappointment. And the part about "trusting someone to catch you" cut deeper than I expected. Because that was exactly where I'd failed her. When she needed me most, I hadn't protected her. I hadn't been the person who stayed when the fall began. As Nathaniel, I was bound by corporate protocol and internal politics. As Wanderer, I was just a bodiless voice, powerless to give her the real comfort she needed. It was a cruel irony, being split between two identities and useless in both.

I started typing a response more times than I could count, deleting it every time. What could I say? That I understood perfectly because I was the one who'd caused part of that hurt? That I wanted to comfort her but couldn't reveal I knew the exact details of her situation? I was drowning in that frustration when I heard determined footsteps coming down the hallway. Not Margaret's soft steps or Gwen's quick ones. These were sharp, precise heels I knew far too well. Alexandra walked into my office without knocking.

way of reminding everyone she believed she was above basic courtesy. She carried a leather folder under her arm and wore that controlled smile she saved for moments when she was about to twist a situation in her favor. "Nathaniel," she said, closing the door behind her as she approached my desk. "We need to talk." I shoved my phone away and tried to straighten up, forcing myself into some semblance of professionalism even as anger churned in my chest at the sight of her.

the folder on my desk and sat down across from me without waiting for an invitation. "The situation with Annabelle isn't just about the supposed leak." "It's not supposed. The logs are clear." Alexandra laughed softly. It was a sound that made my hands clench. 1/3 "Oh, Nathaniel, do you really think this is about system logs?" She leaned forward, slipping into that condescending tone that always made my skin

you protect her in meetings and give her access to privileged information." Each word came out like a scalpel-precise, cutting, intentional. "And you should know there are already board members talking about removing you as well,"

"It's an observation." Alexandra smoothed a hand over her hair, every gesture calculated. "But you need to do something. Distance yourself from her publicly, maybe. Show there's no favoritism

my voice coming out lower and far more dangerous than I intended. Alexandra smiled, and in that moment, I finally saw the truth behind the whole performance. "Because I like you, Nate," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the

course it got to me. Everything about you gets to me, Nate. It only took basic math to figure out who she was." Ice flooded my veins. She knew. She'd known all along exactly what happened on that plane. "If you've known the

shoving down since the Board meeting, the raw outrage of watching Annie get torn apart by someone else's dirty games... Everything erupted at once.