Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 123

Chapter 123

I woke up with swollen eyes and a pounding headache. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, the late-morning glow telling me it was well past nine. I’d barely slept a few restless hours, haunted by dreams where Christian looked at me with that same cold, accusing stare from last night.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I rubbed my face with both hands. My skin was still sore from crying for hours. After he left, I’d sat on the couch in silence, shifting between anger and heartbreak, trying to understand how everything had fallen apart so fast.

Part of me did understand his reaction. It did look bad-the bottles of wine, Edward’s card, the timing of it all. And I knew about Francesca, about what she’d done to him. I knew the kind of scar betrayal had left on him. It made sense that he’d react on instinct. But understanding it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I’d thought he’d cool off and come back once he’d had time to think. Or at least call. Talk to me like an adult. I thought he knew me better than that-that what we had actually meant something.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing. I’d tried calling him three times in the middle of the night, but each time it went straight to voicemail.

I dialed his number again, holding onto a sliver of hope that I’d hear his voice, some kind of apology, anything that would mean he’d realized his mistake. But once again, it went straight to voicemail.

“Damn it,” I muttered, tossing the phone onto the bed.

If Christian wanted to sulk and ignore me, fine. But I had bigger things to worry about. Like finding out what the hell Edward meant by that card-and why he thought I’d done any kind of service for Sunvale.

I took a quick shower, pulled on jeans and a plain white blouse. This wasn’t a social visit. It was business. I needed answers, and Edward Mendez was the only one who could give them.

The Sunvale headquarters was downtown, a sleek glass building trying a little too hard to look like it belonged among Verdania’s top wineries. I walked into the lobby, trying to project the confidence I didn’t fully feel.

“Good morning. I’d like to speak with Edward Mendez, please.”

The receptionist who was a young woman with tight curls and an overly bright smile looked up from her desk.

“Of course! Your name?”

“Zoey Kensington.”

Her face lit up instantly. “Oh! Mrs. Kensington! Mr. Mendez always says to announce you immediately if you ever stop by. One moment, please.”

Did he always say that? As if I were some kind of celebrity?

Before I could even process that, she was already calling upstairs. Within minutes, Edward himself appeared in the lobby, grinning as if he’d just run into an old friend he was thrilled to see.

“Zoey! What a wonderful surprise!” Edward stepped forward as if he was about to greet me with kisses on the cheek, but I took a subtle step back.

“Come on, let’s talk in my office,” he said, waving me along as though this were a friendly catch-up and not a confrontation.

I followed him down the corridor, acutely aware of the curious looks from employees as we passed.

Edward’s office screamed insecure executive-oversized, filled with trophies, with a view he probably thought was impressive. He offered me coffee; I declined. Then he sat behind his enormous desk, smiling like a man very pleased with himself.

“So,” he began cheerfully, “how can I help you today?”

I didn’t bother with pleasantries. I pulled the card from my bag and placed it on his desk.

“I want you to explain this,” I said flatly. “And the case of wine you sent to my home.”

I gave him my real address-the same one he’d always had when I worked there. If someone had been impersonating me, they weren’t using my legitimate account.

“I’ll send everything right now,” he said, typing quickly. “Really impressive work, Zoey. I never realized you were so… strategic.”

I bit my tongue to keep from reacting.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in a café on the corner, phone in hand, staring at my inbox. My hands trembled slightly as the forwarded emails began pouring in.

I opened the first one.

It was from me–or at least it looked like it. My name. My signature. My formatting. But the contents… I had never written those words. It contained detailed information about Kensington’s organic project, full production schedules, and even photographs of internal documents I’d never seen in person.

I opened the second email. Then the third. There were dozens-each one a supposed message from me, each one leaking proprietary Kensington data.

Someone had been pretending to be me. Someone who had access to confidential information and wanted to make it look like I was the traitor. Someone who knew I’d worked for Sunvale and could use that connection against me.

Edward really believed I’d betrayed Christian-and he’d happily exploited it to get ahead of Kensington. But he wasn’t the mastermind behind this.

He was just a greedy opportunist.

The real question was-if not Edward, then who?

Who had framed me so perfectly?