Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 140

Chapter 140

Annabelle’s POV

I never thought I’d find myself sitting in a cheap downtown café talking about attempted murder and corporate conspiracy. But with Zoey pregnant and Christian still recovering from the accident, Marcus and I had ended up being the only ones capable of digging for information. Honestly I was starting to realize I was pretty good at it.

“Annie, focus,” Marcus said sharply, sliding a folder across the table. “We’ve got information that could save Christian’s life.”

“Relax, James Bond,” I teased, picking up the folder anyway. “You’re taking this way too seriously. What’s next, sunglasses and a code name?”

Marcus shot me a flat look, clearly not in the mood for jokes. He was focused, controlled-completely different from the easygoing guy I was used to. The situation had changed him.

“Let’s get to it,” he said in that calm, clipped tone of his. “I’ve gathered substantial evidence. Three different security cameras caught the same car on the day of the crash.”

I studied the grainy black-and-white photos. Even with the poor resolution, Alex’s car was unmistakable.

“Wow,” I said, honestly impressed. “For a guy I thought only knew how to make deals and flirt, you’ve got a real knack for detective work.”

“I’ve always been efficient when I need to be,” he replied, not even cracking a smile as he flipped the page.

“Okay, okay, Mr. Efficient,” I said, laughing softly. “What else do you have?”

“Witnesses,” Marcus said, tapping a list of names. “Three people saw the car speeding deliberately toward Christian. And this…”

He handed me a report stamped with a repair shop’s logo.

“The mechanic who worked on the car afterward. Guess what? He wasn’t working alone.”

I frowned, scanning the report. “What do you mean, not alone?”

“Someone brought the car in and told him not to ask questions,” Marcus explained quietly. “Paid in cash. Wanted it fixed fast and kept quiet.”

“And he just… told you all this because?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Because I offered financial compensation for his cooperation,” Marcus said matter-of-factly. “And because I made it clear that the Kensington family protects those who help-and deals with those who don’t.”

I flipped through the rest of the documents, impressed despite myself. I never thought Christian’s charming cousin had this kind of sharpness hidden under all that playboy confidence.

“Marcus, this is incredible,” I said honestly. “But we still need something more conclusive. Like someone who actually saw who was driving or something that ties the car directly to Elise or-”

“That’s why we’re here,” he interrupted, glancing at his watch.

“What do you mean?”

Before he could answer, Marcus gave a subtle nod toward the entrance. A short, thin man in worn clothes and a nervous expression walked toward us, glancing over his shoulder like he expected to be followed.

“Annie,” Marcus murmured, “meet Carl.”

The man sat down across from us, his hands trembling as he ordered a coffee.

“Carl,” Marcus said, his voice dropping into something deeper, more commanding-so unlike the Marcus I knew. “This is Annie, Christian Kensington’s sister-in-law.”

“They paid me three thousand dollars,” he muttered. “Said it was just to scare him a little. To get him out of the way for a while. But when I hit his car… it got out of control. The crash was worse than I meant it to be.”

My stomach dropped. “Out of the way for what?”

“To deal with his wife,” Carl said quietly, his shoulders sagging.

“Zoey?” My voice came out louder than I intended. “What do you mean deal with Zoey?”

“That’s all I know,” Carl said quickly, shifting in his seat. “They didn’t tell me anything else.”

Marcus leaned in, his voice low and sharp enough to cut glass. “Carl, who hired you? Names. Descriptions. Everything.”

“It was a woman,” he said, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I don’t know her name. She found me, she paid me. Said she had… issues with that Christian Kensington.”

I pulled out my phone, scrolling quickly before turning the screen toward him. Two photos. Elise and Francesca.

“Was it one of these women?” I asked.

Carl barely glanced before pointing with absolute certainty.

“Her,” he said. “It was her.”

It was Elise.