Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 480

Chapter 480

Vivian’s POV

We were in Highridge Valley, staying in one of the smaller houses adjacent to the Montgomery estate- the one we’d been sharing whenever Dominic wanted to stay close to what he called “field operations.” It was a smaller property, but comfortable, with a privileged view of the vineyards that now, at least in part, belonged to us.

Dominic stood by the living room window, a satisfied smile on his face as a truck drove away down the dirt road, carrying yet another shipment of Montgomery wine for distribution. Or rather… wine that would soon become Kensington.

Halfway through the route, corrupted Kensington employees would switch the labels. That was the beauty of acquiring Montgomery. Besides already having a fully structured, functional production operation, they were geographically close enough to use the same transport and distribution services without raising unnecessary suspicion.

And by corrupting the right people with the right amounts of money, the plan unfolded with an almost frightening smoothness. Batches of Kensington wine-actually Montgomery, but bottled and labeled as Kensington-being returned for “questionable quality.” The company’s CEO, Marcus’s perfect little cousin, meticulously investigating everything from production to storage without even remotely suspecting what was happening right under his nose.

Meanwhile, the Kensington name was being chipped away at, little by little. A reputation built over generations, slowly but steadily stained. Until the final blow Dominic was planning.

I watched him from the armchair where I sat, not fully grasping the full scope of what he was orchestrating. I’d learned to stop asking too many questions after he’d made it clear on more than one occasion that my curiosity wasn’t welcome. But if he was pleased and satisfied with his plans, then I was happy too.

I didn’t like seeing Dominic frustrated or angry. Those versions of him were dangerous. Unpredictable.

He stepped away from the window and walked over to the makeshift bar we’d set up in the living room. He grabbed an unlabeled bottle-one of the bottles he kept specially reserved for “quality testing”-and poured two generous glasses.

He handed one to me with an almost gallant gesture.

“To the perfect plan,” he said, raising his glass.

I played along, lifting mine to clink softly against his.

“So does that mean we’re closer to getting your little toy back?” I asked, taking a long sip of the wine.

Dominic nodded, his eyes gleaming with that intensity I’d come to recognize as pure ambition.

“If everything goes according to plan, we’ll have Madeline back before that child is born. Now that she’s the majority shareholder of Sullivan Parks, and the child is her direct heir, I need more than ever to

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consolidate that family under my control.”

I scoffed, unable to resist pointing out the obvious.

“You say that like she isn’t already married. The plan to annul the marriage didn’t work, remember?”

I saw frustration flash across Dominic’s face-the tightening of his jaw that always signaled danger. But he reined it in quickly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said coldly. “Soon enough, she’ll be a widow.”

He filled my glass again before I’d even finished the first.

“A toast to that, too.”

The rest of the night passed in a strange, celebratory haze. Dominic talked about his plans with an enthusiasm I rarely saw in him. I drank more wine, we laughed at jokes that probably weren’t that funny, and for a few hours I almost managed to forget the constant tension that hovered over our relationship.

But the next morning, I woke up with a hangover that felt wildly disproportionate to how much I’d actually drunk. My head throbbed with a sharp, pulsing pain, and my stomach rolled violently with nausea.

I ran to the bathroom and vomited hard, clutching the toilet as my body revolted. I tried to calculate how many glasses I’d had the night before. Two? Maybe three at most? It wasn’t enough to leave me feeling

this bad.

When my vision began to blur seriously and flashes of light started flooding my field of view, real panic set in. Something was very, very wrong.

I stumbled back to the bedroom, my legs weak and unreliable, and shook Dominic desperately to wake

him.

“Something’s happening to me,” I managed to say, my voice weak and terrified. “I don’t feel well… my head… and I can’t see properly…”

Dominic sat up slowly in bed, his movements far too deliberate and calm for someone being woken by a medical emergency. I couldn’t see his face clearly through the fog clouding my vision, but I could hear something in his voice.

Something that sounded dangerously close to a subtle smile.

I was practically on my knees, half-collapsed beside the bed, when he cupped my face in his hands. His hands were cold against my skin as he tilted my head upward, as if examining me more closely in the dim morning light.

“Methanol poisoning,” he explained with a clinical calm that froze me to the bone.

His voice was instructional, almost professorial, as if he were giving a lecture on toxins.

“You didn’t notice, did you? Same smell as regular ethanol. Same basic taste as wine… it doesn’t take much to cause serious damage. And with the right dosage… it can even kill.”

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Chapter 480

Tears started streaming down my face, mixing with the cold sweat covering my skin.

“You… you poisoned me?” my voice broke completely. “You killed me?”

“The dosage was controlled and carefully calculated,” he said with that same disturbing calm. “You were just a test subject. A trial run for what’s coming. But…”

He paused deliberately, and I felt his thumb brush my cheek in a gesture that was almost tender.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll take you to the hospital in time. And knowing exactly what kind of poisoning it is, they might even manage to save you-with fast treatment.”

He let out a,cold, calculated laugh that echoed through the room, and my entire body went rigid with absolute horror.

“Hospital… please…” I managed to whisper.

He looked at me for a few more seconds before answering.

“What’s the rush?” he said with cruel calm. “You know I never leave the house without a proper morning

shower.”

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