Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 553

Chapter 553

Nicholas’ POV

The scream woke me. It was high pitched, filled with pain and terror.

I sat straight up in bed, my heart racing, completely disoriented for a moment. Where was I? The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the lantern left burning on the dresser.

Then I remembered. Gwen’s room. I had stayed because she asked me to. Because she was scared. Because she was hurting.

Another scream followed, more muffled this time, as if she were trying to hold it back.

I turned and saw Gwen twisting beneath the blankets, her head thrashing side to side, her fingers clenched tightly in the sheets.

“No, no, no,” she murmured, her voice frantic. “Please, no…”

She was having a nightmare.

“Gwen,” I said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Gwen, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

She didn’t respond. She kept struggling, her words dissolving into something more broken, more

panicked.

“Gwen,” I said louder, gently shaking her.

Her eyes flew open, wide and wild, not really seeing me. Her body was rigid, stretched tight like a snapped wire.

“Hey, hey,” I said, gripping her shoulders. “It’s okay. It was just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

Slowly, I watched recognition return to her eyes. The wildness faded into confusion, then awareness.

“Nick?” Her voice was hoarse, cracked.

“I’m here,” I said. “It was just a bad dream.”

Then she brought her hands to her head, fingers pressing hard into her temples, and let out a low groan of pain.

“My head,” she whispered. “God, my head is… it feels like it’s splitting open.”

I grabbed the lantern and brought it closer so I could see her face. She was pale. Too pale. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead. Her eyes were squeezed shut in pain.

“How bad?” I asked. “From one to ten.”

“Nine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Maybe ten. I don’t know. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Or… maybe I have, but I don’t remember.”

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Shit.

I got out of bed immediately.

“I’m taking you to the doctor,” I said, already reaching for warmer clothes. “Right now.”

“Nick, it’s the middle of the night,” she protested weakly. “And there’s a snowstorm…”

“I don’t care,” I cut in, grabbing the coat hanging over the chair. “We need to see Doctor Marshall now.”

I draped the coat over her shoulders and helped her stand. Gwen wobbled, gripping my arm to steady herself.

“Can you walk?” I asked.

“I think so.”

I picked up the lantern and guided her out of the room, down the dark hallway toward the stairs. Every step seemed to hurt her. I could see it in the way she squeezed her eyes shut, in the way she held her breath.

I left Gwen in the living room for a moment while I went quickly to my mother’s room to warn her. Martina, alert even in the middle of the night, immediately agreed to keep an eye on Bella and told me to be careful in the storm.

I went back to the living room where Gwen was sitting on the couch, curled in on herself, her hands still pressed to her head.

“Let’s go,” I said, helping her up again.

The cold hit me like a solid wall. Snow was falling in thick, heavy flakes, already piled at least a foot deep on the ground. The wind howled, driving the snow into swirling patterns under the weak lantern light.

I guided Gwen to my car, opened the passenger door, and helped her inside. I hurried around to the driver’s side, brushing snow off the windshield.

The engine coughed once, twice, before finally turning over. I cranked the heater all the way up and eased the car forward, driving slowly, carefully, along the snow-covered road.

Visibility was terrible. I could barely see ten feet ahead of me. The headlights reflected off the falling snow, creating an almost solid wall of white.

It took forty minutes to make a drive that normally took fifteen. Forty minutes of pure tension, crawling along at less than twenty kilometers per hour, praying I wouldn’t slide off the road.

When we finally reached the small clinic in town, the lights were on. The generator was running.

I helped Gwen out of the car and guided her inside. The receptionist looked up at us, startled.

“Mr. Valemont? At this hour?”

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“Emergency,” I said simply. “I need to see Doctor Marshall.”

“He’s on call. I’ll get him.”

A few minutes later, Doctor Marshall appeared, looking tired but alert.

“Nicholas,” he greeted me, then his eyes went to Gwen. “Ms. Parker. What happened?”

“Severe headache,” I explained. “Worse than before. She woke up screaming.”

He nodded and was already guiding Gwen toward an exam room.

“Come. Let’s take a look.”

I spent the next twenty minutes watching as Doctor Marshall examined her. He checked her reflexes, shined a small light into her eyes, asked detailed questions about the pain and her symptoms.

“Mr. Valemont, may I speak with you for a moment?” he asked. “Outside?”

“Of course.”

We stepped into the hallway, leaving Gwen lying on the exam table.

Doctor Marshall crossed his arms and looked at me seriously.

“The confusion and memory lapses are still within what we consider normal,” he said bluntly. “Post- traumatic confusion usually resolves within forty-eight to seventy-two hours. So that alone isn’t an

immediate cause for alarm.”

He paused.

“But headaches of this intensity are concerning. Head pain after a head injury isn’t unusual, but the severity she described is higher than expected. I’ve given her an injectable painkiller that should help for now. Still, you need to watch her closely. If the pain continues at this level or if she develops new symptoms, bring her back immediately. And as soon as this storm passes, you should contact her family. She’s going to need support.”

“Her brother already tried to reach her,” I said quickly. “He called the inn, but the power outage cut the call before I could explain. You’re running on a generator here,” I added, gesturing to the lights. “Can’t you call him? I have his number.”

Doctor Marshall sighed.

“The generator keeps the lights and essential equipment running, yes. But the landlines depend on external lines, and those are down because of the storm. And cell service…” He gave a small shrug. “You know how it is around here even on good days.”

“So what do we do?”

“I’m increasing her medication,” he said. “Something stronger for the pain, and something to help her sleep without nightmares. But, Nicholas, the moment this storm passes and the lines come back, you

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need to contact her family. She needs care that goes beyond what I can provide here.”

I nodded, the weight of that responsibility pressing heavily on my chest.

Doctor Marshall returned to the exam room, and I followed. He explained the new medication to Gwen, wrote a prescription, and gave detailed instructions.

“And if it gets worse,” he said, looking directly at her, “don’t wait until morning. Come back immediately. I don’t care what time it is.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Gwen said, her voice still weak but steadier now after the injection.

We left the clinic twenty minutes later, carrying a bag of new medications and written instructions.

And that was when I saw the storm.

It had gotten worse.

What had already been bad when we arrived was now absolutely brutal. The snow was falling so thickly I could barely see the car parked just a few meters away. The wind had turned violent, driving the snow sideways in sharp gusts that cut against the skin like tiny blades.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“Is it worse?” Gwen asked, shivering beside me even in her heavy coat.

“It is,” I admitted. “But we’ll manage. Come on.”

I helped her into the car, slamming the door shut against the wind. I ran around to the driver’s side and climbed in, brushing snow off my clothes.

I started the engine and pulled onto the road slowly and carefully.

I could only see a few meters ahead, and even that was vague. The headlights reflected off the snow, forming a hypnotic wall of white.

I drove more by memory than by sight. I knew that road as I’d driven it hundreds of times.

But the snow was changing everything. Covering landmarks. Making it impossible to tell where the road ended and the shoulder began.

Then, suddenly, the engine began to shake. A deep, wrong shudder, followed by a sound that shouldn’t have been there. The car lost power fast, coughing and struggling before dying completely with one last pathetic sigh. We slid a few meters on momentum before coming to a stop.

I tried to start it again. The key turned, but the engine didn’t catch. I tried again, but it didn’t work.

We were stranded in the middle of a snow-covered road, in the middle of a violent blizzard, with no power, no heat, and no way to call for help.

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