Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 550

Chapter 550

Nicholas’ POV

Gwen stood there for a long moment, completely still, her silhouette framed by the faint glow of snow reflecting through the windows. I could hear her breathing, slightly uneven, as she processed what I’d just asked.

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice low and uncertain. “That name is… familiar to me.”

Familiar. Not recognizable. Not remembered.

Familiar, like something she knew without knowing how.

“He said he’s your brother,” I added, watching her reaction even in the darkness.

Gwen thought again. I saw her head move, nodding slowly, deliberately.

“It sounds right,” she said, and there was almost surprise in her voice. “Like… like it’s true.”

“Do you remember him?” I asked gently.

“No,” she answered quickly. “It’s not exactly remembering. It’s more like… knowing. You know? Like the information is there, but I can’t quite see it.”

I nodded, even though I knew she probably couldn’t see me clearly in the dark.

Then something shifted. She turned fully toward me, and her voice took on a different tone. Questioning. Almost accusing.

“You don’t know?” she asked. “You don’t know if I have a brother named Christian?”

I should know.

If we were really engaged, if we were really planning to get married, I should know everything about her family. How many siblings she had. Their names. Their ages. What they did. What their relationships were like.

Or at the very least, I should already have some excuse prepared. Some more elaborate lie to explain why her supposed fiancé knew absolutely nothing about her life.

But I didn’t.

Because I was tired of lying.

Because every new lie felt heavier than the last.

“I do,” I said finally, forcing confidence into my voice. “Of course I do. You have a brother named Christian. We just haven’t met in person yet.”

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Gwen seemed to accept that, her posture relaxing slightly.

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“But we need to пelp your memory come back, Tight:

TWCTIL IT, Siziny

search for those things inside yourself. To try to remember on your own.”

It made sense. It sounded reasonable.

And it was partly true, based on what Dr. Marshall had told us.

༄་་་་་་

“Either way, don’t worry,” I added, trying to sound reassuring. “As soon as the power comes back, we’ll call your brother and explain everything.”

“No!”

The word came out fast. Loud. Sharp with panic.

“Christian can’t know that I failed.”

It sounded instinctive. Deep. Unfiltered.

Not thought through.

Just… reacted to.

“Failed?” I repeated, taking a step toward her. “What do you mean, failed?”

I saw her freeze, her eyes widening slightly even in the darkness. Like she didn’t know where those words had come from either.

“That I…” she started, then stopped.

And then I saw it again.

That thing I’d noticed a few times now.

I could almost see the gears spinning in her mind as she searched for a logical explanation. Something that made sense. Something to fill the gap that had just opened.

Filling in blanks with ideas that sounded right.

But weren’t.

Not really.

“That I failed to take care of myself,” she finished, her voice steadier now, more convinced. “I’m the younger sibling, I think. He’s overprotective. I need… I need to prove that I can handle things on my own, without him rushing in to save me every time.”

I nodded, even though I knew that probably wasn’t the whole truth.

That there was something more behind that first flash of panic.

Something she couldn’t remember, but her instincts still knew.

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“That’s okay,” I said softly. “We’ll deal with it later. Let’s just wait for the power to come back.”

But the power didn’t come back.

Not even from the generator.

I left Gwen in reception and went to check the generator in the small shed behind the property. The snow was already deep, nearly up to my knees in some spots, and the wind cut into my face like tiny blades of

ice.

The generator was dead.

The fuel line had frozen, blocking the flow of diesel. I tried warming it with my hands, with heated cloths, but it was useless. I’d need proper equipment we didn’t have right now.

I went back inside, shaking the snow off my clothes, and started doing what needed to be done.

First stop was the kitchen.

Martina and the helpers were already working by lantern light, finishing the guests’ dinner. I silently thanked every god that we had a wood-burning stove.

“Can you finish?” I asked, watching the pots simmer.

“We can,” Martina replied, as efficient as always. “It’s almost ready. It’ll just be simpler than planned.”

“That’s fine. The guests will understand.”

I supervised as they finished, helped carry the dishes to the dining room, made sure everyone was seated and had hot food.

Then I went to take care of Bella.

She was scared of the darkness, so I turned it into an adventure. We ate by candlelight like explorers in a cave. She loved it.

After that, I helped her brush her teeth, using my phone flashlight for light, and tucked her into bed with extra blankets. Without electric heating, the night was going to be cold.

“Is the dark monster going to come?” she asked, her big eyes full of worry.

“There’s no such thing as a dark monster,” I said, kissing her forehead. “And even if there were, Daddy’s here. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

She eventually fell asleep, clutching her stuffed bear to her chest.

Then I went from fireplace to fireplace.

The main hall.

The dining room.

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The TV room.

I added more wood to each one, making sure they’d last through the night. Heat and light were essential

now.

Paula helped me hand out extra lanterns to the guests. We knocked on doors, offered more blankets, made sure everyone was as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

By the time the last guests began retreating to their rooms, I was exhausted. My muscles ached from the physical work. My eyes burned with fatigue. All I wanted was to collapse into bed and sleep.

I climbed the stairs slowly, every step feeling higher than the last.

The second-floor hallway was dark, lit only by the weak glow of a lantern I’d left on the table at the end of the hall.

That’s when I heard crying. It was soft and muffled, coming from one of the rooms. From Gwen’s room.

I stopped, my exhaustion instantly forgotten. I stood there listening, making sure I wasn’t imagining it.

I wasn’t.

It was definitely the sound of someone crying. Trying to stay quiet, but failing.

I moved closer to her door.

It was slightly open, just a crack, letting a thin line of lantern light spill into the hallway.

I hesitated.

Part of me wanted to keep walking. Go to my own room. Let her have her private moment.

But I couldn’t.

“Gwen?” I called softly, pushing the door open a few more inches and leaning my head inside.

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