Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 323

Chapter 323

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Chapter 323

“What do you mean, disappeared?” Nate asked, his voice edged with growing irritation.

A bitter, ironic laugh slipped out of me, echoing through the cold, sterile room at the precinct. The situation was so absurdly predictable it almost felt laughable. if it weren’t so infuriating.

“With money and influence,” I replied, my voice dripping with a cynicism I barely recognized in myself. “I’ve seen this happen before. And the culprit was a corrupt, criminal Kensington then, too.”

Richardson continued his explanation with the professional patience of someone who had handled cases like this more times than he cared to count.

“System failure, according to the hotel,” he said, unmistakable skepticism woven into every word. “Data corruption during the exact hours that matter. The footage from before and after is perfectly intact, but the recordings from the time you were in the room and when James was arrested, simply no longer exist.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Nate said, his voice tight with controlled fury I could feel radiating from his rigid posture.

“Obviously not,” Richardson agreed without hesitation. “But proving intentional sabotage and more importantly, proving who was responsible for it, is nearly impossible. Alexandra Kensington has enough financial resources and political connections to make evidence like that vanish without leaving a trace.”

I sank deeper into the uncomfortable chair, the crushing weight of injustice pressing down on my chest like a slab of concrete. James would be punished, yes, and that offered some comfort. But the person who had meticulously orchestrated everything, who had deliberately put me in that position of vulnerability, would walk away without facing any legal consequences at all.

“So she just… gets away with it?” I asked, my voice coming out weaker and more defeated than I intended.

“Legally, yes,” Richardson said, genuine regret in his tone. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other forms of justice. Her professional reputation, her standing within the company, her social and family relationships… those things can be affected in ways that don’t involve the criminal justice system.”

Nate slipped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer in a quiet, protective gesture.

“What matters is that you’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice soft with tenderness. “And that James will never be able to hurt anyone again.”

I knew he was right. Legal justice might be frustratingly limited in this case, but at least a significant part of it would be served through James’s conviction. And maybe Alexandra would still face consequences, just not the kind that came with handcuffs and courtrooms.

Still, sitting there in that cold, impersonal room, surrounded by the smell of disinfectant and stale coffee, all I could feel was a deep, corrosive frustration with a system that allowed people like Alexandra to manipulate and hurt others without facing consequences proportional to the damage they caused.

When we finally left the station, the London sunlight felt blinding after hours under harsh fluorescent lights. We walked to the car in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts about the maddening revelations we’d just received.

“Let’s get some coffee,” Nate suggested gently, noticing how tense and unsettled I still was. “I know a quiet

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Chapter 323

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place not far from here.”

We ended up in a small, cozy café with worn wooden tables and the comforting scent of freshly ground beans in the air. I ordered a double cappuccino, hoping the caffeine might cut through the fog of frustration settling over

“How are you feeling?” Nate asked once our coffees arrived, studying my face with careful attention.

“Frustrated,” I admitted honestly. “But also… I don’t know. Maybe a little relieved, too? At least now we know where things stand. James will pay for what he did, and that’s what matters most.”

Nate nodded, stirring his coffee absently.

“If you want,” he said hesitantly, as if testing my reaction, “we could go look at one of the houses now. Maybe a change of scenery would help clear your head.”

The suggestion lifted my mood more than I expected. After all the negativity of the morning, the idea of seeing a potential future home felt like exactly the kind of hopeful distraction I needed.

“I’d love that,” I replied, with more enthusiasm than I’d felt all day.

We finished our coffees quickly, and Nate drove us to Notting Hill, winding through familiar streets until we stopped in front of a row of elegant Victorian townhouses. Each one was painted a different soft pastel, creating a charming rainbow along the street.

“This was one of my most recent investments,” he explained as he searched for the keys. “I was planning to rent it out, but…”

He let the sentence trail off, smiling in a way that hinted at new possibilities.

The house was absolutely stunning. The front door was painted a soft blue-gray that reminded me of the London sky on overcast days. Inside, we stepped into a bright, airy living room with high Victorian ceilings, large windows that flooded the space with natural light, and an original marble fireplace that instantly made me picture cozy winter evenings.

“The piano would look perfect over there,” he said, pointing to a corner near the windows. “And your vinyl collection could take up that whole wall.”

We explored each room slowly and deliberately. The kitchen was modern but still preserved charming original details. The second-floor office had built-in bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling, which made me sigh in pure delight. The bedrooms were spacious and filled with sunlight.

But it was when we stepped out onto the small back terrace that I truly fell in love. There was a neatly kept little garden perfect for a dog to run around, surrounded by similar houses that created a warm, neighborhood feel.

“It’s perfect,” I said, leaning against the terrace railing and imagining Sunday mornings drinking coffee out

there.

“You don’t have to rush,” Nate said carefully. “We still have other places to see. I want you to look at everything before you decide.”

“But it is perfect,” I insisted, turning to face him, my excitement completely genuine. “I can see our child playing in that garden with a dog. I can picture you playing the piano in the living room while I read in the office.

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I can see us growing old here.”

Nate laughed, a sound full of joy, and something that felt like relief.

“Our child?” he repeated, his eyes shining with an expression I couldn’t fully read.

My heart skipped when I realized I’d said out loud something that probably should have stayed in my head. But

it was too late now. I met his gaze, seeing in his eyes all the possibility of a future I desperately wanted to build.

“Nate,” I said softly, “you want kids, don’t you?”

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