Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 405

Chapter 405

Marcus’ POV

It had been three days since I’d watched Madeline be taken away by her own parents, and every passing hour felt like eternity. The mental health institute where she was being held was a discreet, well-maintained building. Nothing about it suggested the kind of place where someone could be kept against their will with forged documents. But I was learning that appearances meant nothing when Dominic Blackwood was involved.

Olivia sat beside me in the waiting room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Tension showed in every line of her body. She hadn’t stopped blaming herself since we left the Kensington mansion, insisting she should have done more to prevent Madeline from being taken.

“Any news from the investigators?” she asked quietly, as if afraid someone might overhear.

We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since she left the mansion, even though we’d agreed to come together today to try to visit Madeline.

“We’re all over Dominic,” I replied, keeping my voice just as low. “Trying to gather solid proof about the illegal casinos, the money laundering, everything. But the guy knows how to cover his tracks.”

I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated by how little tangible progress we’d made.

“It looks like a lot of people owe him gambling debts,” I went on. “And he uses that to keep them loyal. Because otherwise…” I paused. “They just disappear.”

Olivia nodded, her expression dark.

“That’s probably how he managed to keep Madeline locked up in here,” she said. “Someone in the administration must be under his control.”

“But shouldn’t her parents be the ones making that decision?” I asked, trying to understand how any of this was legally possible. “Even if they had documents, fake or not, wouldn’t only legal guardians be allowed to authorize this?”

Olivia let out a sharp breath, a mix of anger and despair.

“Dominic has them too,” she said bitterly. “I don’t know how, but he does. You should’ve seen them in the car that day. They weren’t the aunt and uncle I grew up with anymore.

Before I could respond, we were interrupted by a middle-aged nurse approaching us. Her uniform was immaculate, a clipboard tucked neatly under her arm. Her professional expression gave nothing away, but the way she avoided direct eye contact immediately put me on alert.

“Mr. Kensington?” she asked, even though it was obvious she already knew who I was.

“Yes,” I replied, standing up. “I’m here to visit my wife, Madeline Kensington.”

“Unfortunately,” she said, in a tone meant to sound sympathetic but backed by unyielding firmness, “you won’t be able to see her today. The patient is not cleared for visits yet.”

“Why not?” Olivia asked at once, standing as well. “Is she okay?”

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“She’s stable, but still in an adjustment period and highly unstable emotionally,” the nurse explained, as if reciting a memorized script.

She requires medication at strict intervals and has been experiencing adverse

reactions. Visits are not allowed at this time.”

My jaw tightened.

‘Medicated.’

The word echoed in my head like a siren.

Olivia started to argue, her voice rising despite herself.

“What kind of medication?” Olivia demanded. “For how long? Who authorized this? She was perfectly fine three days ago. I don’t believe this-”

I placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered,

“We don’t want to create more problems for Madeline.”

She looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but she forced herself to calm down, at least a little.

I turned back to the nurse, pasting on a polite smile.

“Could you at least let her know we were Kere? That her husband and her cousin came to see her?”

“Of course,” she replied immediately. But I knew it was a lie. No message would be passed along.

“And when can we come back?” I pressed.

“The attending physician reevaluates the case weekly,” she answered evasively. “We suggest calling before coming next time.”

As we walked out of the clinic, Olivia couldn’t hold in her frustration.

“I can’t stand this uncertainty,” she vented, pacing beside me. “We don’t know what they’re doing to Madeline in there. What if they’re drugging her? Those medications sound suspicious. What if they’re trying to break her psychologically?”

“I know,” I said, fighting to keep my own anxiety under control. “But we have to think clearly. If we act on impulse, it could make things worse for her,”

“Think clearly?” Olivia stopped abruptly. “Marcus, it’s been three days. Three days she’s been in there alone, with people who could be doing anything to her!”

I understood her frustration completely, because I felt it too, multiplied tenfold. Every instinct in me was screaming to storm that clinic and pull Madeline out by force. But I knew that would only hand Dominic more

ammunition.

“Let’s give the investigators a few more days,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as her. “If we don’t have anything solid by the end of the week…”

“Then what?” she asked. “What are we going to do?”

I didn’t have an answer. And we both knew it.

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We were

“She’s completely destroye

We turned at the same time.

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