Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 621

Chapter 621

Renee’s POV

Monday started with a phone call.

“Renee? It’s Faust. Remember me? You asked me to discreetly look into the financial situation of

Valemont Estate.”

Faust had come recommended by an old contact. Someone who owed a few favors. Someone with access to information regular people didn’t.

“Yes, of course,” I replied, straightening up in the narrow bed in my aunt’s tiny guest room. “Did you anything?”

find

“I did,” Faust confirmed. “And it’s not exactly what you were expecting. Valemont Estate is in serious financial trouble. High debt with the bank. Forty-two thousand dollars, backed by the entire property.”

I frowned, confused.

“Wait. Debt? I thought they were recovering. The place is fully booked, reservations are up, they hired that consultant…”

“Yeah,” Faust said. “Apparently the recovery is recent and hasn’t been enough to fill the hole. And there’s more. The debt was sold a few days ago.”

“Sold? To who?”

“I couldn’t figure that out yet,” he admitted. “The buying company used multiple layers of protection. But when banks sell debt like that, it’s usually not a good sign. It means they’ve lost hope of getting paid.”

Forty-two thousand dollars.

And yet my daughter was walking around with a diamond necklace hanging from her neck?

Nothing made sense.

“Thank you,” I said, ending the call quickly.

I sat there, thinking.

Something didn’t add up.

And I was going to find out what. Because if there was one thing I knew how to do well, it was dig.

sday morning, I had a plan. Social media. Everyone leaves traces online. Everyone slips up.

I started with Valemont Estate’s Instagram. Gorgeous photos of the vineyards, the inn, sunset dinners. And there she was. Gwen. In several posts. Always smiling. Always casual. Always looking like she belonged there.

1/4

Then I checked the profiles of influencers who had recently visited the property. That famous couple,

Darius and Laura.

I scrolled through every picture, every comment, every tagged location.

And then I found it.

An older photo. Months back. Some upscale corporate event. And there, in the background, slightly blurred but unmistakable… Gwen.

Wearing a dress that definitely didn’t belong to a modestly paid marketing consultant.

I tapped the photo, zooming in for details. The caption mentioned the inauguration of a new wing at the Rosemont resort with a special partnership from Kensington.

Kensington wines.

Gwen knew about wine more than she should. More than a simple enthusiast.

So that was what she was hiding? She worked for one of those big companies Nick hated so much? One of those corporations that swallowed small properties without thinking twice?

But it still didn’t fully add up. How would a regular employee afford diamonds?

On Thursday, I drove to Florentia.

By late morning, I was standing in front of the Kensington headquarters. The building was impressive. Modern. Sleek. It screamed money and power from every inch of glass and marble.

I walked in, pretending to have confidence I didn’t feel.

The plan was simple. Find someone who worked with Gwen. Someone who didn’t like her. There was always a jealous coworker. Someone who felt overlooked. Someone who would love to talk.

Or at the very least, get information. Anything that would take me one step further.

But first, I had to confirm she actually worked there.

“Good morning,” I said, approaching the receptionist. “I’m looking for an employee. Gwen Parker.”

The receptionist typed something into the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Gwen Parker…” the receptionist murmured, scanning the screen. “I’m not finding that name in the system. Are you sure she works in this unit? We have offices in-”

“sure,” I cut in, trying to keep my patience. “She lives in Florentia.”

as i sure? All I really had was the idea that she might work with wine. And maybe it was here. All based on a single Instagram photo.

The receptionist gave me that polished, empty smile.

2/4

“Ma’am, we have over two hundred employees in this building alone. I’ll need more information. What department?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

I had no idea.

That’s when I noticed a shift near the elevators.

People stepping aside. Clearing a path. Almost reverent.

A tall man walked out, wearing an impeccably tailored suit, an Italian leather briefcase in hand. Two other sharply dressed men flanked him, clearly in subordinate positions.

Employees in the hallway greeted him with respectful nods. Some even stopped what they were doing.

And then I recognized him.

Christian.

“…we need to close before the second semester,” Christian was saying, his voice carrying natural authority. “The Euradian board has already approved it. Now it’s just a matter of execution.”

I tried to catch his attention. I waved. Took a few steps toward him.

But he walked right past me, turning into a side corridor without even glancing in my direction.

I hurried back to the reception desk.

“That man,” I said, pointing vaguely. “The one who just walked by. That’s Christian, right? He works here?”

The receptionist looked at me with faint condescension.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you know if he’ll be back soon? I need to speak with him urgently.”

“Mr. Kensington will return to his office later today,” she replied efficiently. “However, his schedule is extremely tight. If you’d like to speak with him, you’ll need to formally request an appointment through his personal secretary.”

I stood there, processing.

“I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “With Christian?”

The receptionist nodded patiently.

1. Christian Kensington. CEO of Kensington. Would you like me to check his availability for the coming days?”

I felt my jaw literally drop.

3/4

Christian Kensington.

CEO.

A slow smile spread across my face. Uncontrollable. Triumphant.

I had just found my winning lottery ticket.

BIG SALE: 3500 bonus free fou you

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