Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 462

Chapter 462

Marcus’ POV

“Madeline?” I murmured, seeing her standing in the doorway like she was about to come in just as I was about to leave.

Her eyes were red, clearly betraying that she’d been crying. Her hair was slightly messy, like she’d run her hands through it over and over. And her expression-she looked exhausted. Not just physically. There was a deep emotional weariness etched into every line of her face, a kind of fatigue that seemed to come straight from her soul and spread through her entire body.

“You scared me,” I said, instinctively pulling her into an embrace, a wave of overwhelming relief washing over me just from seeing her there-safe, whole.

She didn’t resist, but she didn’t hug me back either. She stayed still in my arms, passive, as if she were merely tolerating the contact instead of participating in it. It felt like I was holding a distant version of her.

“I told you I was getting a ride home,” she said when I pulled back slightly, her voice sounding more tired than defensive. “Davide brought me.”

“But how… how did I get here first?” I asked, genuinely confused by the logistics.

I’d driven fast-borderline reckless—to get home as quickly as possible. But the time I’d spent waiting for Mia, Luke, and Olivia to gather their things before leaving with me had given Madeline a head start.

“Davide dropped everyone else off first,” she explained, slipping past me and into the apartment with slow, deliberate movements. “I was the last one.”

I closed the door and followed her inside, watching the way she moved through our shared space. There was something different about it-like she was reacquainting herself with a place that should’ve felt familiar.

“Why did you do this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm despite the rising anxiety in my chest. “Why did you want to come back alone?”

She let out a heavy sigh and sank onto the couch, the kind of exhaustion in her body that immediately worried me. It was as if the weight of the world had settled onto her shoulders.

“Because I needed to think,” she said, staring down at her hands. “Away from you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Away from me.

As if my presence made it harder for her to sort through her thoughts. As if I were part of the problem she needed to solve.

“And did you?” I asked, sitting in the armchair across from her, instinctively keeping the distance she seemed to need.

She nodded slightly-barely more than a flicker of movement-and then continued, her voice unexpectedly steady.

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“You told me you wanted to make this work. But you don’t.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely lost, trying to understand where she was going with this.

“I don’t care if you don’t love me, Marcus,” she said, her words coming out firm and steady, like she’d rehearsed them the entire drive home. “I don’t love you either. I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me and for my child… but I don’t love you.”

It felt like the floor vanished beneath my feet. Her words echoed through the silent apartment, each one slicing into my chest like a blade. They were so absolute, so final, that for a moment I couldn’t fully process what I’d just heard.

“But,” she continued, resting a hand over her belly in that instinctive, protective gesture that had become second nature to her, “this baby might be yours. And I know you want what’s best for them. So… we can’t keep lying to each other or hiding things.”

I went completely still, trying to absorb what she was saying. How had we gone from ten to zero so fast? Just a few hours ago, I’d been on the verge of telling her I loved her. That I wanted to get through everything with her. Build something real. Something lasting.

And now she was reducing our entire relationship to gratitude and parental responsibility.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked finally, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.

“I mean,” she replied, looking straight into my eyes for the first time since she’d arrived, “that a few hours ago I was seriously considering getting on a private jet with Vivian and going to Verdania-because you decided for me that it was better I didn’t know my father is in the hospital.”

My blood ran cold instantly. She knew. She knew about her father-and worse, she’d almost left with Vivian.

“Madeline…” I started, but she cut me off with a small gesture of her hand.

“That’s when I realized how crazy it was that I was more willing to trust Vivian than you,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of sadness and resignation that made the gravity of the situation hit me full force. “And that’s the only reason I’m still here.”

That landed harder than any direct accusation ever could. She’d reached a point where trusting our declared enemy felt safer than trusting me. There was something deeply wrong with that, and it was something I had completely failed to see.

“But you need to understand that you can’t isolate me from the world,” she went on, especially when you’ve made it very clear how much of a burden I am to you.” She paused, her voice softening just slightly. “Marcus, I’m not Aria. You can’t fix the past by trying to control the present.”

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