Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Joseph’s words lingered in the air while I struggled to keep my composure. My mind raced, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound like an outright lie yet wouldn’t reveal the painful truth either.

“I hope you had a good trip,” I said at last, choosing to shift the subject. “I hope it was a pleasant journey.” Joseph offered me his arm, guiding me toward the living room. His steps were slower than I remembered, as though each movement demanded deliberate effort.

“The trip was… productive,” he replied, his voice carrying a nuance I couldn’t quite interpret. “Please, sit. I’ll have them bring some of that tea you liked last time.”

I sat on the sofa while Joseph gave a discreet signal to one of the maids. The familiarity with which he treated me, as though I were already part of the family, made my chest tighten. He remembered the tea I liked. Such a small detail, yet so meaningful.

“Have you and Christian started thinking about dates?” he asked once he’d composed himself, as if the coughing spell hadn’t happened. “For the wedding, I mean. I’m sorry my trip delayed things.”

My stomach dropped. How could Christian let his grandfather believe this lie for so long? What was he waiting for?

“We… we’re still discussing it,” I answered carefully. “There are many things to consider.”

“Of course, of course.” He nodded, understanding. “But don’t take too long. Life is too precious to waste on indecision, don’t you think?”

There was something in his tone, a veiled urgency that made me study him more closely. The dark circles under his eyes, the subtle pallor, the way his hand drifted to his chest now and then as though to soothe an ache. Joseph Kensington was not well.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked gently.

A tired smile crossed his face.

“Just the weight of years, my dear. Nothing to worry about.”

The maid returned with the tea, sparing us from the delicate conversation for the moment. As she poured, I noticed Joseph discreetly pulling a small pill bottle from the inner pocket of his jacket. He slipped one into his mouth quickly, trying to mask the movement behind his teacup.

It was time to change the subject.

“How were things in Valentia?” I asked once we were alone again. “Christian said it was an important trip.”

Joseph raised a brow, studying me for what felt like an eternity.

“He didn’t tell you the truth, did he?”

“Apparently Christian hides a lot of truths,” I muttered, unable to hold back the edge of bitterness.

To my surprise, Joseph laughed. A short, almost bitter laugh that ended in another fit of coughing.

“Don’t be angry with him,” he said once he caught his breath. “The secret was at my request. I thought the fewer people who knew, the better for everyone.”

My brow furrowed. What secret were we talking about?

“I don’t understand…”

“Valentia has some of the best specialists in the world,” he continued, his voice lower now. “I went for a consultation with a renowned cardiologist. The doctors here had already run out of options and…”

He stopped abruptly, his hand clutching at his chest again. But this time the gesture was harsher, his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt with force.

“Mr. Kensington?” I called, alarm spiking through me.

His face, pale before, now turned ashen. His breathing, once steady, came ragged and labored. His eyes, so lively just moments earlier, widened in panic as calm gave way to something far more frightening.

“My… medicine,” he managed, his voice barely a whisper. His free hand pointed weakly toward the jacket draped neatly over the arm of the sofa.

I leapt from my seat, rummaging through the pockets until I found another vial-different from the one he had taken earlier. The letters on the label blurred as I tried to make sense of the dosage.

Joseph tried to speak, his lips moving soundlessly, his breaths shallower with each passing moment.

“Please, Grandpa,” Christian pleaded, holding the old man’s hand tightly between his own. “Hold on. Please.”

The desperation in his voice, the raw vulnerability in his eyes as he clung to his grandfather’s hand… In that moment, I understood. Christian wasn’t just worried about inheritance or the legacy of the vineyard. His grandfather was the most important person in his life-the only one who had stayed when everyone else had left.

“The paramedics!” the maid called, rushing to lead them in.

I stepped aside, watching silently as they worked quickly, assessing Joseph, connecting him to portable equipment, administering IV medication.

Christian stayed at his grandfather’s side, refusing to let go of his hand even as the paramedics began transferring him onto the stretcher. His face was carved with anguish, every trace of his usual mask completely gone.

“I’m riding with him,” Christian said, already following the team toward the door.

Only then did he seem to remember me. He turned briefly, his eyes finding mine amid the chaos.

“Zoey…” he began, but the words faltered.

“Go,” I said firmly. “He needs you now.”

He nodded, gratitude shining in his eyes, before disappearing through the doorway, following the stretcher carrying his grandfather.

I remained there, alone in the living room, the tea forgotten and cooling on the table, while the sound of the ambulance siren faded down the long road from the estate.

In that moment, the harsh words I had overheard earlier that morning felt distant, as though they belonged to another world. The image of Christian kneeling before his grandfather, stripped of all defenses, had shifted something deep inside me.

Maybe there was more to Christian Kensington than I had ever imagined. And maybe the story behind our so- called arrangement was far more complicated than I had ever dared to believe.