Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 662

Chapter 662

Renee’s POV

Driving to Florentia was a humiliation I swallowed with clenched teeth.

Not because of the road. Castoria was too beautiful to deserve people like me. Or people like them.

It was the symbolism.

Before, Bella came to me. Now I was the one crossing hills, toll booths, signs, winding curves to “pick up my daughter” in her city.

Their city.

The city where Gwen Kensington breathed like oxygen had been invented specifically for her lungs.

Every other weekend.

Like I was a calendar appointment.

Like I was a visitor.

I parked with surgical precision, turned off the engine, and stayed there for a moment with my hands on the steering wheel. The leather still held the warmth of my fingers. The car smelled like expensive perfume and old resentment.

‘Calm down, Renee.’

I checked myself in the rearview mirror. Lipstick perfect. Hair flawless. Eyes sharp enough to cut glass.

I would not lose control.

Not today.

Today was Bella’s day.

And Bella was the only piece that truly mattered.

She came out of the building with a backpack bigger than her torso, coat half open, walking with that exaggerated confidence little girls adopt when they’re trying to look older. Probably because her father found it adorable and Gwen encouraged “independence.”

When she saw me, her face opened into a smile that had taken me weeks to earn.

At first, Bella had been stone. Polite. Distant. Like she was repeating a script her father had rehearsed with her.

But I learned quickly.

Never argue about her father in front of her. Never paint Gwen as the villain. Just listen. Agree. Offer the phrases children memorize as lifelines.

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“I believe you.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“I’m here.”

Consistency worked miracles.

Or at least performed a convincing imitation.

“Mom!” she ran toward me and hugged me tight.

I crouched to meet her and kissed her forehead.

“My love. You look beautiful.”

“I had pasta yesterday,” she announced, like it was breaking news.

“Wow,” I smiled. “How thrilling.”

She laughed, and something flickered in my chest. Quick. Annoying. Almost like… tenderness.

I brushed it away like dust.

“Ready?” I said, taking her hand. “I picked a place you’ll like.”

I could’ve taken her somewhere elegant. Turned the afternoon into a showcase of what I could provide.

But children didn’t care about linen napkins.

They cared about melted cheese.

The pizzeria was small, warm, noisy. Smelled like baked dough and tomatoes. Bella lit up instantly.

“Can I get fries on top?” she asked, eyes wide.

“You can get whatever you want,” I said.

That wasn’t just generosity.

It was strategy.

A full, happy child would talk more and lower her guard.

We sat in a corner booth. I ordered a glass of wine. Ordered her pizza. And while she rambled about school-some drawing, a competition, a girl who “doesn’t know how to share”-I watched notifications light up on my phone.

I didn’t need to search for gossip.

Gossip found me.

“Kensington and Valemont: whirlwind wedding and baby on the way?”

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I read the headline without changing my expression.

Only my fingers tightened around the stem of my glass for a fraction of a second.

So it was true.

I had already suspected the wedding, of course. It even fit nicely into my projections. But… a baby?

Bella took a bite of her pizza and hummed happily, cheese stretching from her mouth to the slice.

I waited.

Let her keep talking. Let her relax.

Then I casually tilted my phone toward her plate, like I was showing her something funny.

“Look,” I said lightly. “Guess what just popped up?”

She leaned closer.

“What?”

I showed her the headline without opening the full article. No adult details. Just enough for a child’s imagination to fill in the blanks.

“It’s about your dad… and Gwen.”

Bella frowned slightly.

“Gwen?”

I smiled.

“Yes. Her.”

She chewed more slowly now.

“What about them?”

I tilted my head, as if it were nothing.

“It looks like they’re having a baby.”

I said it the way someone comments on the weather. As if I hadn’t just dropped a grenade.

The effect was subtle at first.

Not shock. Confusion.

“A baby?” Bella repeated, her voice smaller.

I gave a small shrug, like I was just processing it too.

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“That’s what people are saying.”I angled the screen just enough for her to see the headline again and a few lines below it. “And when a lot of people post the same thing… it’s usually not made up.”

Bella held her slice midair, eyes locked on my face like I was the only one who could translate the world

for her.

I lowered my voice.

“Did they tell you anything? Did your dad say something to you?”

“No…” she answered, and that no carried something she didn’t have a word for yet.

I nodded slowly, like that confirmed what I suspected.

“I see…” I murmured, letting a small silence stretch between us.

Silence was useful.

Children hated silence. Children filled silence.

Bella swallowed.

“But… why didn’t they tell me?”

Good question.

But I couldn’t say that. I needed to be concerned mother, not vindictive woman.

“Sometimes adults think they’re ‘protecting’ you,” I said carefully. “They assume kids don’t understand. That it’s better to wait. To tell you when everything is ‘ready.””

I made air quotes with my fingers. She noticed.

“But I understand!” she protested, indignant in that way that was so uniquely hers.

“I know you do,” I said, and here was the key move: validation. “You’ve always understood more than people give you credit for. I actually think that intimidates your dad sometimes.”

Bella’s mouth twitched toward a smile.

There.

An opening.

when

“And there’s something else,” I continued, as if I were just thinking out loud. “When Gwen has a baby… it’ll be her baby. Really hers.”

Bella frowned again.

“What do you mean? I’m real.”

“Of course you are, sweetheart.” I leaned in quickly, sweet and reassuring. “You’re very real. But you’re

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Nick’s daughter. You’re not her daughter, are you?”

Bella didn’t answer.

“And when a new baby comes,” I added gently, like I hated having to say it, “that baby becomes the priority.”

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