Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 56

Chapter 56

“I’m going to kill that bitch. I swear to God I’ll kill her,” Annabelle declared the second she burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. “How dare she?”

I sat at the edge of the bed, staring miserably at the ruined dress. The red wine stain had spread across the bodice and down part of the skirt, turning the pristine white into a scarlet disaster. My hands trembled as I fought to breathe normally.

“We need to focus, Annie,” I managed, swallowing the knot in my throat. “There’s no time for revenge right now.”

Annabelle stopped pacing, looking from the dress to me, assessing.

“What are the chances we get another dress?”

“Zero.” I shook my head, panic clawing at my chest. “Not even Vivian could pull off a miracle like that on such short notice.”

My sister bit her lip, her brain clearly working at full speed. As I watched her search for a solution, an idea began to take shape in my own mind.

“What if, instead of trying to hide the stain, we made it… intentional?” I suggested, a sudden spark of inspiration hitting me.

Annabelle frowned, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“We need more wine. And red roses. Lots of them,” I explained, feeling a strange rush of excitement despite everything. “And plenty of wine since I plan on drinking half of it.”

“Wine? And roses?… Zoey, this is a real emergency, not the time to get drunk!” Annie protested.

“Trust me.” I gripped her shoulders.

Annabelle glanced at the clock.

“What do we have to lose? But where am I supposed to find wine and roses?”

I couldn’t help a small smile, even in this chaos.

“Annie, where are we?”

She froze, blinked, then smacked her own forehead.

“A vineyard! Of course. That solves the wine problem.” She frowned again. “But what about the roses?”

“Find Vivian.”

Annabelle nodded with determination and disappeared out the door, leaving me alone with my frantic thoughts and the wreck of a dress.

I stood and walked to the window. Below, the guests were already seated, murmuring among themselves. Joseph was in the front row, looking healthier than he had in days, chatting animatedly with my father. Isabelle and Lawrence sat on the opposite side, impeccable in their formal clothes but visibly tense.

And at the makeshift altar among the ancient vines, Christian waited. Even from this distance I could see his rigid posture in the tailored suit. He didn’t look nervous-brides were often late, after all. But Vivian had been adamant about punctuality. “The Kensingtons are punctual even in death,” she’d said. Well, looked like I was about to break that tradition on day one.

I bit my lip, trying to contain the rising anxiety.

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