Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 464

Chapter 464

Madeline’s POV

The morning was cold and gray when I heard the sound of a car pulling up in front of our building. I looked out the window and spotted a black Land Rover parked downstairs. Christian had arrived to pick us up.

“They’re here,” I told Marcus, who was finishing zipping up his suitcase in the bedroom.

The tension between us still hung in the air like a heavy cloud after the conversation the night before. We’d slept in the same bed, but on opposite sides, each of us pretending to be asleep whenever the other shifted. It felt like we were walking through a minefield, every word loaded with the potential to blow up in our faces.

“I’m ready,” he said, coming into the living room with his suitcase and a carefully neutral expression.

I grabbed my bag and double-checked that I had all my documents and a few basic medications I’d set aside for the trip. It was strange to think that in just a few hours I’d be back in Verdania-a country that was both my home and the source of so many of my problems.

We rode down the elevator together in silence. Christian stepped out of the car when he saw us approaching, his expression efficient and focused, as always when he slipped into work mode.

“Good morning,” he greeted us, taking our luggage. “The flight is scheduled to take off in two hours. We’ve got plenty of time if we leave now.”

Zoey turned around in the front seat and smiled at me, though I noticed a slight wince of pain when she moved.

“How’s your foot?” I asked, thinking about her fall from the bridge.

“A little sore,” she admitted, gesturing to the orthopedic boot she was wearing. “The doctor said it’s normal, but it’s pretty annoying.”

“I have a great anti-inflammatory at home,” I offered impulsively. “It’s natural and works really well for this kind of pain. If you want, we can run up real quick so I can grab it.”

Christian checked his watch, clearly calculating whether we had time.

“Would it be fast?” he asked. “We can’t run too late.”

“Five minutes,” I promised. “Zoey, do you want to come up and apply it directly to your foot? It’ll work better that way.”

“That would be great,” Zoey agreed, carefully opening the car door so she wouldn’t put too much pressure on her injured foot.

“I’ll take the opportunity to use the bathroom,” Olivia said, getting out of the back seat.

The three of us went up to the apartment, leaving Christian and Marcus waiting in the car. I went straight to the bathroom to grab the tube of anti-inflammatory ointment I’d bought at the corner pharmacy a few days earlier.

“Sit here on the couch,” I told Zoey, who was limping slightly. “I’ll help you take the boot off so we can apply it directly to the skin.”

The process turned out to be more complicated than I’d expected, and Zoey winced in pain every time we tried

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to adjust her foot. The area was clearly swollen and extremely sensitive to the touch.

“Wow, it’s really bruised here,” I said, applying the ointment carefully. “Are you sure nothing’s fractured?”

“The X-ray didn’t show a fracture,” Zoey replied, taking a deep breath as I gently massaged the area. “But the doctor said the swelling could last a few weeks.”

Olivia came out of the bathroom and joined us in the living room, sitting down in the armchair and pulling out her phone.

“Have you seen that Mia posted pictures from the camp?” she said, showing us the screen. “They turned out great. She even got some shots of us during the competition.”

We got distracted scrolling through the photos, laughing at some of our expressions during the hardest challenges. It felt strange to look at those moments of joy and unity while, on the inside, I was drowning in confusion about my relationship with Marcus.

By the time we managed to get Zoey’s boot back on, almost half an hour had gone by. She tested a few steps and smiled in relief.

“So much better,” she said. “That ointment really works.”

“Keep the tube,” I offered. “You’ll need to use it a few times a day until the swelling goes down completely.”

We were just about to head back downstairs when we heard footsteps on the stairs. The apartment door opened and Christian walked in, followed by Marcus.

“You were taking a while,” Christian said, though he didn’t sound annoyed. “We thought we’d come up and make sure everything was okay.”

“The boot was tricky to take off and put back on,” Zoey explained, holding up the tube of ointment. “But it’s much better now.”

Marcus glanced at me briefly, and for a moment our eyes met. There was something there I couldn’t quite read- gratitude, maybe, for helping Zoey, or simply relief that we were managing to maintain a façade of normalcy in front of everyone else.

“Well, since we’re here,” Christian said, relaxing a little as he sat on the arm of the couch, “I think I’m going to grab a coffee. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

We ended up staying a few more minutes, talking. It was almost comforting to pretend this was just a normal family trip, without the crushing weight of everything that had brought us here.

Olivia was in the middle of telling a funny story about Luke at the camp when Christian’s phone rang. He looked at the screen and frowned.

“I need to take this,” he said, standing up and moving a few steps away.

“Hello?” he answered. Then his expression immediately changed. The relaxed posture vanished, replaced by sharp, focused tension.

We all stopped talking, watching him in silence as he listened. His shoulders stiffened, and he ran a hand through his hair.

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Bonus

“Was anyone hurt?” he asked, his voice tight with urgent concern.

My heart started racing. What had happened? Who could have been hurt?

Christian stayed quiet for a few seconds that felt endless, listening to the response. Finally, his shoulders loosened just a little.

“Good. Thank God,” he said, and I felt the collective relief in the room.

But the call wasn’t over. Christian tensed again, pacing the living room as he listened.

“I’m heading there now,” he said firmly. “I need you to send a trusted security team to Marcus’s apartment. Now.”

My blood ran cold. A security team to Marcus’s apartment? What the hell was going on?

When Christian finally hung up, all of us were staring at him, anxious and waiting.

Marcus was the one who broke the silence.

“What happened?”

Christian looked at us for a moment, as if deciding how to explain what he’d just learned. His expression was grim, heavy with a seriousness that made it clear our calm morning was over.

“An attack,” he said finally, the words dropping like stones into the quiet room. “Someone blew up the jet.”

He paused, his eyes moving over our faces as the information sank in.

“If we hadn’t been delayed…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

We all looked at each other, knowing exactly what would have happened.

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