Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 416

Chapter 416 

Madeline’s POV 

It had been ten days since we’d arrived at the Galleo property, and I found myself counting them like a prisoner scratching marks into a wall. Not because I felt trapped. If anything, there was something deeply freeing about being there, far away from all the toxicity that had dominated my life over the past few months. Still, there was a strange sensation of living inside a bubble, as if the real world had temporarily stopped existing. 

I was sitting on the terrace with Olivia, enjoying the golden late afternoon that had become part of our daily routine. She was flipping through a Valentian magazine she’d found in the house’s library, while I watched the olive trees sway gently in the breeze. It was a scene of absolute peace, yet my mind refused to fully settle. 

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” I said, breaking the comfortable silence between us. 

“What?” Olivia asked, lifting her eyes from the magazine. 

“Dominic being so quiet. Ten days and… nothing. No moves, no attempts to find us, at least nothing that’s reached us. That’s very unlike him.” 

Olivia closed the magazine and looked at me thoughtfully. 

“Maybe he genuinely has no idea where we are. Marcus was extremely careful, and this property is registered under Beatrice’s family name, not the Kensington name. He might just be completely lost.” 

I shook my head, a sense of unease curling in my stomach that I couldn’t quite explain. 

“Have you checked social media lately?” 

“No,” Olivia admitted. “Marcus asked us to avoid anything that could be tracked. Why?” 

I sighed, remembering the screenshots Marcus had discreetly shown me a few days earlier, against his own advice that I shouldn’t expose myself to any of it. 

My parents keep appearing everywhere, giving emotional interviews about their missing daughter. Crying in 

nt of cameras. Begging me to come home. Saying they’re desperate and just want to know I’m okay.” 

y chest tightened at the memory. My mother, eyes red and swollen, holding a photo of me from years ago. My father pleading with whoever had “taken” me to bring me back safely. 

“Dominic is definitely manipulating them,” I continued, bitterness creeping into my voice. “He knows exactly how to use my parents’ emotions to create public pressure and make me feel guilty.” 

Olivia nodded slowly, understanding the tactic. 

“He probably thinks that will hit you emotionally and make you reach out to them.” 

“I won’t,” I said, more firmly than I truly felt. “I know that’s exactly what he wants. The second I make contact, he’ll find a way to track me.” 

The words came out easily, but the truth was messier. Despite everything… they were still my parents. And it was hard, even now, to simply stop loving them as family. 

I changed the subject, trying to push those heavy thoughts away. 

Luke and Mia had come in from Florentia just for the occasion, bringing special bottles of wine and lively stories about the city that would soon become our new home. The table was filled with traditional Castorian dishes. Porcini mushroom risotto. Slow-braised veal shank served with soft, creamy cornmeal. Arugula salad with parmesan and fresh figs. 

Marcus looked visibly anxious, but it was a good kind of nerves. There was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen in days. Hope. Hope that we could finally stop hiding and start living. 

Throughout the meal, conversation flowed easily between Valentian and Maravinese. Jonathan and Beatrice made a point of including me in every family story, as if I had truly been part of their lives for years. Mia talked about the apartment Marcus had chosen for us, describing the view from the windows and the neighborhood market where we could buy fresh ingredients. 

When dessert arrived, a homemade tiramisu Beatrice had prepared especially for me, Jonathan stood and picked up a bottle of Kensington wine. 

“A toast,” he said, pouring wine for everyone and sparkling grape juice for me. “To family. To courage. And to new beginnings.” 

Marcus stood beside me, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder. 

“To my wife,” he said, his eyes locking with mine, “and to our son.” 

“To family,” Beatrice echoed, lifting her glass. 

“To family,” we all repeated in unison, glasses meeting in the center of the table with a soft chime of crystal. 

As I sipped the sweet juice and looked around at all the smiling faces, a deep emotion filled my chest. It was a strange, beautiful feeling. For the first time in a long while… I truly felt at home.