Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 463

Chapter 463

Marcus’ POV

“What?” I asked, genuinely stunned by what she’d just said. “You think I’m projecting Aria onto you?”

The question came out loaded with disbelief. How had she even reached that conclusion? What had I done or said that could have given her that impression?

Madeline looked at me with an expression that mixed exhaustion and deep sadness, like she was explaining something obvious that I’d refused to see all along.

“Maybe you don’t see it. Or maybe…” She paused, her voice turning thoughtful, as if she were organizing ideas that had been forming for a while now. “Maybe it’s not exactly that. But maybe you see me as your redemption project. A way to make up for a past that still haunts you.”

It felt like she’d punched me straight in the gut. Redemption project? Was that really how she saw our relationship? Like some half-baked psychological experiment?

“And maybe…” she went on, hesitating, as if bracing herself to say something she knew would hurt, “maybe you tried to love me the way you loved Aria. And you won’t admit-to yourself or to me-that that isn’t love.”

Her words echoed through the silent apartment, each one cutting into my chest like a blade. It was as if she were dissecting our entire relationship and finding only artificiality where I’d believed there was something real.

“But now I understand,” she said with a finality that sent a chill through me. “Now I know.”

I stood there, frozen, trying to process what I’d just heard. She understood? Because now I was the one who didn’t understand-at all. How had she arrived at such devastating conclusions about my feelings?

I had never compared Madeline to Aria. Never. They were two completely different people in my mind, in my heart. Aria had been my first love-the intense, innocent kind you have at seventeen, the kind that permanently shapes how you understand loss.

Yes, I had loved Aria with all the intensity of a teenage boy. I’d suffered for her. I’d carried the guilt of her death like a stone in my chest. I’d mourned her far longer than was healthy for anyone. But that didn’t mean everything that came after was some attempt to recreate or compensate for that loss.

Madeline was not my redemption project. She was a completely different woman from Aria in every imaginable way. Where Aria had been young and dreamy, Madeline was mature and resilient. Where Aria had been sheltered and innocent, Madeline had fought battles I could barely even comprehend.

And yes, I loved her. Not the way I’d loved Aria, with that idealized, adolescent passion, but in an adult way. A complicated, real way. I loved her strength when she faced adversity. Her vulnerability when she allowed herself to trust me. The way she challenged me intellectually. The way her face lit up when she laughed at something genuinely funny.

I loved how she cared about the people around her, even while fighting her own demons. I loved how she’d found the strength to rebuild her life after everything Dominic had done to her. I loved how she managed to be brave even when she was afraid.

This had nothing to do with Aria. Nothing to do with redemption or saving anyone.

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It was just love-messy, imperfect, real.

“Madeline, it’s not like that…” I began, desperate to explain, to make her understand just how wrong she was about my feelings.

“I’m tired, Marcus,” she interrupted, lifting a hand in a clear signal that she didn’t want to hear my explanations. “Too tired to talk about this right now.”

There was a deep exhaustion in her voice that went far beyond physical fatigue. It was as if this entire situation -every conversation, every analysis of our relationship-had drained the very last of her emotional reserves.

“I want…” She paused, taking a deep breath like she was gathering strength for a difficult decision. “I want to go to Verdania. I want to see my father.”

I stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to process not only her decision, but the full weight of everything she’d just said about us. How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

“You know all the risks involved,” I said at last, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.

“I do,” she replied without hesitation, as if she’d already weighed every possible outcome. “But I won’t forgive myself if I don’t give my father one last chance for us to make peace before he’s gone.”

“Okay,” I agreed, knowing there was no point in arguing once her mind was made up. “I’ll let Christian know we’re leaving with him and Zoey tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” she said simply, and then started up the stairs toward our bedroom.

I watched her climb a few steps, feeling like I was witnessing her move away from me-not just physically, but emotionally. As if every step she took was another step farther from us, from any chance of fixing what had broken between us.

“Madeline,” I called when she was almost at the top of the stairs.

She turned, looking at me with an expression that mixed exhaustion with curiosity, as if wondering what I could possibly have left to say after everything that had already been said.

“I know you’re not her,” I said, the words heavy with a sincerity I hoped she could feel.

Madeline studied my face for a long moment, her eyes searching for signs that I truly meant it. Finally, she gave a small nod and turned back toward the stairs, continuing up.

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