Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 720

Gwen’s POV

They said twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

I repeated that window so many times in my head it became a kind of internal clock.

A clock of tension.

The constant feeling that something could happen at any moment, that the timeline wasn’t mine anymore.

Twenty-four to forty-eight hours for the investigation to move forward after the evidence was presented.

Which meant the call could come at any time.

I still hadn’t told Nick anything.

Because there’s a very specific kind of hope that, when placed in the hands of a broken man, turns into a promise.

And promises are dangerous.

If the plan led nowhere, we would have to go through the legal route.

The formal path.

Slow.

Full of hearings and competing narratives.

I didn’t want Nick to feel like everything was resolved, only to watch reality take it away from him as easily as Renee had taken our peace. I didn’t want to see his eyes light up just to go dark again days later.

So I carried it alone. I tucked the weight into a place inside me I knew well.

The place where I put everything that couldn’t spill over.

I tried to allow

and I were curled up on the couch in

played

by promising mystery and ten minutes later you realize it’s just people speaking seriously about something

Nick had a blanket over his legs and his arm wrapped around

his body and, for a few minutes, I could almost

doesn’t wait for wars to

shifted the remote, lowering the

about something dumb

girls’ room.” I

color wrong, we’re going to look at that wall every day and remember we

get it right.” I

of a perfectionist than you like to admit.”

“I’m practical,” he corrected.

“You’re the perfectionist.”

made an

He squeezed

“What color do you think Bella would

“Something very princess.Like… Royal Blush.Castle Vanilla.Wand

at

“You’re making

underestimating the paint

Nick let out a laugh, pulling me closer, and I laughed with him, feeling my chest lighten like, for a second, life

for the…,”

body tense slightly, like

“For the

what color

at the ceiling, pretending to

thought I’d want

beige, that magazine