Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 345

Chapter 345

After everything that had happened over the past few weeks, the day we’d been waiting for for months had finally arrived: embryo transfer day. It was strange how life could weave moments of absolute terror together with hope that felt so pure and bright.

The fertility clinic had never felt as welcoming as it did that Tuesday morning. Nate sat beside me in the waiting room, his hand wrapped around mine with that steady, reassuring pressure that always calmed me, while I tried tein in the nerves doing full-on gymnastics in my stomach.

“How are you feeling?” he asked for the tenth time in half an hour, his green eyes full of tender concern.

“Nervous, anxious, excited, terrified,” I answered honestly. “Basically every possible feeling all at once.”

When Dr. Whitmore called us into the procedure room, my heart started racing even faster. The space was calm and professional, but there was something special in the air, as if everyone knew they were about to take part in something potentially magical.

“So, how are we feeling about the big day?” the doctor asked as I settled onto the exam table, pulling on the hospital gown that somehow made me feel vulnerable and hopeful at the same time.

“Anxious,” Nate said, dragging a chair closer to my side. “But ready.”

“Perfect,” Dr. Whitmore said, carefully washing her hands. “Let’s quickly go over what will happen today and what you can expect over the next few days.”

As she prepared the necessary instruments, she explained the process with a soothing patience that made me feel like I was truly in good hands.

“The procedure itself is relatively simple and painless,” she said, holding up a thin tube she would use for the transfer. “We’ll insert the catheter through the cervix and place the blastocyst directly into the uterus. The whole process takes about ten minutes.”

“And after that?” I asked, my scientific curiosity tangled up with maternal anxiety.

“Then begins the most important waiting period of your lives,” she replied with a gentle smile. “Between five and seven days after the transfer, if the embryo successfully implants in the uterine wall, it will start releasing the hormone hCG-human chorionic gonadotropin. That’s the hormone pregnancy tests detect.”

I squeezed Nate’s hand as I took in every word, trying to memorize the timeline that could change our lives

forever.

“Twelve to fourteen days after the transfer, we’ll have you come in for the official blood test,” Dr. Whitmore continued. “It’s the quantitative beta-hCG test, which gives us precise, reliable results for hormone levels. That’s the result that really matters.”

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‘Actually,” I said hesitantly, “we have a bit of a timing issue. Our wedding is scheduled for day twelve, in Verdania. But we’ll be back in time for the day fourteen test.”

Dr. Whitmore’s brows knit slightly as she mentally calculated the dates.

“Couldn’t you postpone the wedding for a few days?”

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“Unfortunately, no,” Nate replied. “We already have over two hundred guests confirmed. Family flying in from three different countries. Everything’s booked and set. There’s no way to change it now.”

“I completely understand,” the doctor said, nodding with empathy. “Well, starting around day nine or ten, a standard over-the-counter pregnancy test may detect hCG if the levels are high enough. It’s not as precise as our lab test, but it can give you an indication.”

“But ideally, we should be here for the official test?” I asked.

deally, yes. You’d be here on day twelve so we can be absolutely certain and properly monitor hormone levels, “she confirmed. “But I understand that life doesn’t always allow perfect timing. If you take a home test on day eleven and it’s positive, that’s a good sign. If it’s negative, it may simply be too early.”

“And what if I’m pregnant during the wedding and don’t know it?” I asked, a sudden wave of worry hitting me. Can I drink champagne? Dance? Fly on a plane?”

Dr. Whitmore let out a gentle laugh.

“Annie, if you are pregnant at that stage, the embryo is still microscopic and well protected by your body. A glass of champagne for the toast won’t make a difference. Dancing is perfectly safe, and flying is fine too. The key is avoiding excess. That’s basic common sense.”

A huge wave of relief washed over me.

“So,” the doctor said, “shall we begin the procedure?”

The next ten minutes passed in a blur of medical focus and raw emotion. Nate held my hand the entire time, whispering encouragement while I tried to relax and silently send every positive thought I had toward the tiny embryo being carefully placed where it might become our child.

“All done,” Dr. Whitmore announced. “You now potentially have a microscopic passenger on board. Take a deep breath. Your chances are good, but I want to be honest. On average, each transfer has about a forty to fifty percent success rate. That also means it’s common for it not to work the first time. The most important thing is to hold on to hope and patience. Every attempt brings you one step closer.”

When it was over and I was able to sit up on the table, I felt a strange mix of fullness and anxiety. There was no physical difference yet, but mentally, I felt changed. As if I were carrying the most precious possibility in the world inside me.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

“You live your lives normally,” Dr. Whitmore said. “Work, enjoy yourselves, plan the wedding. No special restrictions beyond the obvious: eat well, keep exercise light, avoid excessive stress. And most importantly, don’t obsess over every sensation or symptom.”

“Easier said than done,” Nate muttered, making everyone laugh.

At home, Ginger greeted us with her usual enthusiasm, fully recovered from the scare the week before. Ever since the chocolate incident, she’d become even clingier, as if she instinctively knew we needed each other more than ever.

“Do you think she’ll know if I’m pregnant?” I asked, scratching behind her ears as we sat on the couch.

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“I’m sure she will,” Nate said. “Dogs can sense hormonal changes before tests can. She’ll probably be our first clue.”

We spent the rest of the day suspended between forced normalcy and quiet anticipation. Nate worked from home so he could stay close, even though I kept insisting I felt completely fine. We ordered Japanese food for dinner. “It’s the last time I can

sushi for a while, if everything goes right,” I joked.

That night, lying in bed, Nate gently placed his hand over my stomach.

> you think you can feel anything?” he whispered.

“It’s way too early to feel anything,” I said, but I placed my hand over his anyway. “Still… I like imagining there’s a tiny life starting in there.”

“Whatever happens,” Nate said, kissing my temple, “I’m already proud of you. For the treatment, the injections, for holding on to hope even when it was hard.”

“We’re doing this together,” I corrected him. “We’re a team, remember?”

“The best team in the world,” he agreed.

As I drifted off to sleep that night, a strange sense of peace wrapped around me. No matter what the coming days would bring, we knew we’d done everything within our power. The rest was out of our hands-left to God, fate, nature, the universe, or whatever name people give to the force that decides when two people are ready to

become three.

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