Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 520

Chapter 520

Marcus’ POV

I was finishing adjusting my tie in the living room mirror, studying my reflection with a mix of nerves and anticipation, when the doorbell rang. The celebration at the Sullivan Parks wasn’t for a few more hours, and there was still an important conversation I needed to have before we left.

“I’ll get it,” Madeline said, gliding past me. Her dark blue dress fluttered softly as she headed for the door.

I heard it open, followed by Zoey and Christian’s animated voices greeting Madeline with the easy affection of people who had become family over the months.

“Madeline! You look beautiful!” Zoey exclaimed, stepping inside and kissing her cheek with genuine enthusiasm.

“You both look amazing too,” Madeline replied, smiling in that warm way of hers that lit up any room. Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home.”

Christian followed his wife inside, impeccable as always in his perfectly tailored dark suit. He greeted me with a nod and that familiar half-smile that carried years of shared history between us.

“Marcus,” he said simply. “Ready for the party?”

“Almost,” I answered, giving my tie one last adjustment before stepping away from the mirror. “I just need to convince these two to get out of here in under two hours.”

“Hey!” Madeline protested, though she was laughing, that playful sparkle in her eyes. “I won’t take that long.”

“Of course you won’t,” Zoey agreed with far too much confidence, already hooking her arm through Madeline’s conspiratorially. “We’re just doing a few final touch-ups-hair and makeup. Fifteen minutes max, I promise.”

Christian and I exchanged a knowing look that needed no words. We both knew from experience that fifteen minutes in female vocabulary meant at least forty. Probably more.

“Alright then,” Zoey said, already tugging Madeline toward the hallway with determination. “I have some ideas for your hair that are going to be perfect…”

Their voices drifted away, punctuated by laughter and excited commentary about hairstyles and accessories, until they disappeared completely when the bedroom door closed in the distance.

The apartment grew quieter, the distant hum of traffic below filtering in through the windows. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the envelope I knew was tucked away in the office, waiting for this

moment.

I looked at Christian, who had moved to the window and was staring out at the city below with a thoughtful expression I couldn’t quite read.

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“Come with me to the office?” I asked, keeping my tone casual despite the tension tightening in my chest. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Christian turned slowly, and for a brief second I saw something pass through his expression- recognition, maybe. Or resignation. He knew me too well after all these years working side by side, weathering crises, building things together. He had probably already guessed what was coming.

“Sure,” he said simply, nodding with that steady calm of his.

We walked down the short hallway to the office I’d set up in the apartment-a relatively small but functional space, with a dark wooden desk, a few shelves lined with books and documents, and two comfortable armchairs positioned across from the desk. Afternoon light streamed through the blinds, casting bands of light and shadow across the floor.

Christian stepped inside and settled into one of the chairs with ease. I closed the door behind us, not because we needed privacy-the women were far too busy to interrupt us-but because the gesture felt right for the conversation we were about to have.

nt to the desk and opened the top drawer, taking out the white envelope I’d prepared the day before. I for a moment, feeling the symbolic weight of that piece of paper, knowing it represented such a

nt change in my life.

When I turned back to Christian, I found him watching me with that expression I knew so well. There was no surprise there. No shock. Just a calm acceptance of the inevitable.

“I already know what’s coming,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of understanding and something that might have been sadness-or maybe just nostalgia.

I tightened my grip on the envelope, searching for the right way to begin.

“At least things are finally right with Kensington,” I started, choosing to lead with the positive, with what we had built together. “The company has fully recovered. In a way that seemed impossible just a few months ago, especially after the whole truth about Dominic came out.”

And it was true. The last six months had transformed Kensington in ways no one could have predicted. Once the full story about Dominic Blackwood was exposed-every meticulous manipulation, every calculated attempt to destroy the company, his true nature laid bare in shocking detail-the public narrative shifted dramatically, almost overnight.

Kensington went from being seen as a company tangled in dirty scandals to being recognized as the victim of a dangerous, manipulative man. And the market, always sensitive to public perception, responded fast and hard. The stock climbed. Contracts returned. Trust was restored.

“Thanks to Madeline,” Christian said, genuine gratitude warming his voice. “And that dossier she got her hands on. If it weren’t for her, we’d still be fighting to prove our innocence. We’d probably be bankrupt.”

“That’s true. Madeline was essential,” I agreed, pride swelling in my chest as I thought about everything my wife had faced. “But it was also because of the work you’ve always done, Christian. The way you kept Kensington solid even when everything looked like it was falling apart. You held the line when you

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me with an intensity I didn’t even know was possible.”

I squeezed his hand.

“So today, I’m choosing you too. Choosing to be your wife not because of a document or a ceremony, but because I can’t imagine my life without you. Because you’re my best friend, my partner, the father of my daughter, and the love of my

life.”

My voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’m choosing you, Marcus. Today. Tomorrow. Always.”

Half the church was crying. Even Christian was discreetly wiping his eyes.

“By the power vested in me,” the officiant said, his voice emotional but steady, “and witnessed by everyone here today, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Again. And forever.”

He smiled at Marcus.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Marcus didn’t wait a second.

He pulled me close, his hands cradling my face with so much tenderness my heart ached, and he kissed

That kiss held peace. Certainty. The promise of a thousand tomorrows together.

When we pulled apart, the church erupted in applause.

Still in Marcus’s arms, I looked out and saw everyone standing in the pews, clapping, whistling, laughing, crying. Even Aurora was clapping her tiny hands together, like she somehow knew she was supposed to be celebrating too.

Marcus laced his fingers through mine, and we started walking back down the aisle. Together. Side by

side.

People congratulated us as we passed. The children shifted excitedly in the pews. The light from the stained glass followed us, casting colors over our path.

But all I could focus on was the feeling of Marcus’s hand in mine.

The smile on his face.

The peace that had finally settled in my heart.

It wasn’t the end of our story. If anything, it felt like the real beginning.

But it was the end of fear. The end of running. The end of looking over my shoulder, waiting for something terrible to happen.

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