Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 483

Chapter 483

Marcus’ POV

We drove to the Kensington estate in Highridge Valley as soon as the sun came up. Christian’s private jet carried us swiftly from the chaos of Belmonte to the quiet green hills of Southridge, but no one was admiring the view. Every one of us was lost in our own dark thoughts about what we’d just uncovered.

Now, seated in the mansion’s expansive living room-Christian, Zoey, Madeline, Gwen, Matthew, Dante, and me, with Nate joining by video call from England-we were finally facing the full scale of the problem ahead of us.

“How did the Kensington name get dragged into all of this?” Matthew asked for the third time, his frustration obvious as he paced back and forth across the room.

Gwen sat upright in an armchair, already in the efficient, executive mode that defined her in business.

“We need to consider every possibility,” she said. “Methanol can contaminate beverages in several ways. During the distillation process, if the first fraction isn’t properly discarded-”

“Kensington would never make that kind of mistake,” Christian cut in firmly. “We have quality controls at every stage. Samples are tested constantly. Our production team personally oversees every single batch.

“Could it be the equipment?” Dante suggested, trying to be helpful. “Methanol used for cleaning that somehow contaminated the bottles?”

“We don’t use methanol in any cleaning process,” I replied, shaking my head. “Precisely to avoid any risk of cross-contamination. We’ve followed strict protocols for generations.”

On the laptop screen, Nate frowned.

“What about suppliers? Could someone be providing adulterated raw materials?”

Christian picked up a thick folder from the coffee table.

“We’ve already checked that. All of our suppliers go through rigorous screening. The tests we ran on the suspicious batches show the wine itself doesn’t contain methanol at dangerous levels. The methanol is being added later, somewhere along the distribution chain.”

“So someone is opening our bottles, adding methanol, and resealing them?” Zoey asked, disbelief written all over her face. “That would require a massive operation.”

That was when Madeline finally spoke, her voice calm but carrying a bitter kind of knowledge we all

recognized.

“Can we address the elephant in the room?” she said, her hands resting protectively over her seven- month belly. “I know what everyone here is thinking. And yes-this is exactly the kind of thing Dominic would do.”

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The silence that followed confirmed she was right. Every one of us had thought it, but no one had wanted to be the first to say it out loud.

Zoey leaned forward.

“How would he do it? Specifically?” she asked. “We need to understand his modus operandi if we’re going to stop him.”

Madeline took a deep breath, clearly bracing herself as painful memories surfaced.

“Don’t trust anyone. At least… not anyone outside this room, outside the family,” Madeline said. “Dominic is meticulous. He could’ve bought even your most loyal employee. Someone you’d never suspect.”

Christian dragged a hand through his hair, frustration written all over him.

“But to pull off large-scale tampering inside Kensington, they’d need to involve a lot of people,” he argued. “Someone would talk. Our team is loyal-many of them have been with us for decades.”

I turned it over in my head, trying to picture how an operation like that would even work logistically. Adding methanol to hundreds of bottles without being detected. Getting past our quality controls. Reaching distributors and consumers…

That was when it clicked.

“They may not be doing it inside Kensington,” I said slowly, the realization taking shape as I spoke.

Zoey murmured, her eyes widening with sudden understanding.

“Montgomery.”

Christian slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to make everyone flinch.

“They didn’t buy Montgomery just to hurt Madeline in some petty winery rivalry,” he snapped. “This was always bigger. Hitting Kensington with everything they have.”

The pieces began to fall into place in my mind like a gruesome puzzle. Montgomery was geographically close to our facilities. They used many of the same distributors and transport companies. With the right people bribed, it would be relatively easy to swap labels, replace bottles…

“They produce wine at Montgomery,” I explained, my voice gaining urgency as the theory solidified.” Lower quality than ours, but not necessarily bad. They add methanol to the Montgomery bottles, switch the labels to Kensington, then feed them back into the distribution chain through compromised

transporters…”

“And the Kensington name becomes synonymous with mass poisoning,” Gwen finished, horror lacing

her voice.

On the laptop screen, Nate leaned forward.

“But how do we prove it?” he asked. “How do we make sure the investigation doesn’t focus only on Kensington, but widens enough to uncover sabotage-and ultimately leads to Montgomery?”

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Madeline looked at him through the screen, her expression dark.

“I don’t know a legal way.”

The weight of those words settled over all of us. Dominic could’ve corrupted people at the highest levels. Police, investigators, authorities who should’ve been searching for the truth might already be in his pocket.

Matthew dropped heavily into a chair, his face grim.

“How are we handling the poisonings?” he asked. “From a corporate and human standpoint?”

The responsibility tightened around my chest.

“Kensington is covering all medical treatment for the victims,” I said. “Pharmaceutical ethanol, dialysis, long hospital stays. But…”

I paused, my throat closing.

“People are dying, Matthew. Six confirmed deaths so far. People who drank what they believed was legitimate Kensington wine-and died because of it.”

Madeline spoke again, her voice heavy with grief.

“More murders on Dominic’s ledger. But being charged to Kensington.”

The reality of it was crushing. It didn’t matter that we weren’t responsible for the tampering-our name was attached to deaths. A reputation built over generations was being destroyed day by day.

Christian looked around at all of us, and for the first time, I saw a vulnerability in him I’d rarely witnessed. He was always the strategist, the problem-solver, the one with an answer for everything.

But now he let out a long, heavy breath and admitted something I never thought I’d hear him say:

“For the first time, I don’t even know where to begin.”

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