Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 175 Christian's POV The morning of Zoey's discharge began with a heavy melancholy that hung over the room like thick fog. As I carefully folded the clothes she'd worn during her stay, I watched her sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the window overlooking the floor where the neonatal ICU was. Her fingers drummed anxiously against the white sheet, the only outward sign of the storm inside her. The discharge process was painfully slow. Each time Dr.

Porter slid another document in front of her to sign, Zoey hesitated, as if every signature pulled her a little farther away from Matt. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the pen, and I had to place my hand over hers to steady her. "None of this feels fair," she murmured, her voice heavy with a mother's sorrow that twisted something deep in my chest. "A mother should be with her child." I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, feeling the tension in her body. "We'll get through this, love. I promise." "When?" she whispered, the question breaking with exhaustion.

"Because every time I start to think things are settling down, that maybe we'll finally have peace, something worse happens. The sabotage, the accident, Matt being born early... when does it stop chasing us?" I looked straight into her brown eyes, seeing the reflection of months of emotional fatigue staring back at me. "I'm close to an answer now. Closer than you think." The drive home passed in contemplative silence. Zoey rested her forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window, watching the familiar landscape of Highridge Valley drift by like a slow-motion film.

Her fingers played absently with her wedding ring. It was a nervous habit she'd developed without realizing it. Our house greeted us with the warm stillness of a home that had missed its owners. The plants Carmen had faithfully cared for were lush and thriving, every room spotless. Yet there was a faint emptiness in the air, one we both felt the instant we stepped inside. Zoey paused in the middle of the living room, slowly turning as if reacquainting herself with a place that should've felt familiar but somehow didn't anymore.

feels like we've been gone for months," she said softly, brushing her hand along the back of the couch. I made chamomile tea and we settled on the sofa. It felt like the right moment to bring up what had been circling in my mind ever since that talk with Matthew. "I want to talk about the dinner I mentioned at the hospital." Zoey sighed,

would be something small, intimate," I said, choosing my words carefully. "And it's really important to me that you're there." She studied my face with that uncanny perception of hers,

need you to trust me on this." Inside, guilt gnawed at me like a slow, growing shadow. The last thing I wanted was to throw Zoey into the middle of a potentially volatile situation right when she was starting to heal. But if our suspicions were right, then being surrounded by familiar faces might trigger the memory we so desperately needed. Dr. Porter had once mentioned that controlled exposure to familiar environments and people could help restore memories lost to trauma. I wasn't trying to force the process, but patience wasn't a luxury

life and Matt's. How many more chances would fate give us? And what if, next time, we weren't so lucky? Paranoia had become a constant companion. Every strange noise at night, every unfamiliar face that came too close, and every suspicious coincidence all set my nerves on edge. I couldn't keep living like this, and I definitely couldn't let Zoey and Matt live under this constant shadow

"But sometimes situations call for quick decisions. And I really need you to do this for me." Zoey fell silent for a long time, her fingers tracing invisible patterns across the sofa fabric.