Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 131

Chapter 131

It was the fifth day at Silvercrest Medical Center. I’d already lost count of how many times I’d walked those halls, how many cups of coffee I’d gulped down from the machine in the lobby, or how many mornings I’d woken up at five just to get there early and be with Christian.

My routine had turned rigid: wake up, fight off the morning sickness with the cookies Annie had bought especially for that, take a quick shower, then rush to the hospital before the doctors started their seven a.m. rounds. I stayed all day, only slipping out for a quick lunch when Christian insisted, and didn’t leave until the nurses gently kicked me out at the end of visiting hours.

The pregnancy symptoms were getting harder to ignore. Morning sickness had become a constant companion, and the fatigue was something I fought through sheer willpower. Christian had noticed, of course. He noticed everything.

“Zoey, you need to go home and rest,” he told me yesterday afternoon, after catching me dozing off in the chair beside his bed. “You can’t stay here twenty-four hours a day. It’s not good for you or the baby.”

“I’m fine,” I protested, like I always did.

“No, you’re not. You’ve got dark circles, you’re pale, and I saw you run to the bathroom three times this morning. “His eyes were filled with worry. “When I’m out of this bed, it’ll be my turn to take care of you. I’ll make your breakfast, hold your hair when you’re sick, massage your feet when they’re swollen.”

That promise had made me cry, pregnancy hormones turning every sweet gesture into an emotional flood.

Now, on Thursday morning, I stood outside room 412, watching through the glass. Christian was sitting up in bed, completely focused on the laptop Marcus had brought him on his second day there. His fingers flew over the keyboard with the same intensity I’d seen during his most important meetings.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

I turned and found Dr. Dalton standing beside me, watching Christian too. There was a knowing smile on her face.

“What is?” I asked, confused.

“Men like that,” she said, nodding toward the room. “I’ve got one of those at home too.”

I couldn’t help laughing at the way she said one of those, like Christian was some rare species of animal.

“Do they ever just… switch off?” I asked. “Because with Christian, not even a car accident could make him stop. Yesterday he was setting up virtual meetings from his hospital bed.”

Dr. Dalton laughed, shaking her head like she knew exactly the type.

“After two kids, my husband finally learned how to manage his time and appreciate what really matters,” she said. “But I won’t lie… deep down, I’m a bit of a workaholic too. I guess that’s why we understand each other.”

There was something comforting in the casual way she talked about balancing work and family, as if it really were possible to be ambitious and still have a healthy relationship.

“It’s comforting to know it can be done,” I admitted.

“It is. And you two will find your own rhythm.” She gave me a kind look. “By the way, Christian’s recovering really well. Yesterday’s tests showed his intracranial pressure is completely normal, and his ribs are healing right on schedule. You’ll probably be able to go home soon.”

“Really?” Relief washed over me. “When?”

“If everything keeps going this way, maybe by the weekend. Saturday or Sunday at the latest.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling tears of relief threaten to spill. “For everything. For taking such good care of him.”

Dr. Dalton smiled and walked off to continue her morning rounds. I took a deep breath and looked at Christian again. He was so focused on the screen that he hadn’t even noticed our conversation through the glass.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, as quietly as I could. Christian was so absorbed in what he was doing that he only looked up when he heard me pull out the chair.

“Good morning, my love,” he said, his smile lighting up his still slightly bruised face. The marks around his eyes had faded to a yellow-green, and the bandage on his head was smaller now.

“Good morning,” I whispered, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. “How did you sleep?”

“Better. The headache’s almost gone.” He half-closed the laptop. “And you? Did you manage breakfast without feeling sick?”

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