Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 688

Chapter 688

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Chapter 688

Nick’s POV

Three days isn’t enough time for anyone to pull themselves together.

But it’s more than enough time for the world to decide what it wants to do with you.

Cross called in the middle of a morning I was pretending was normal. The kind of normal where I sign off on construction paperwork, answer supplier messages, and act like my brain isn’t split in two. One half working. The other counting how many times Bella blinked differently since the interview.

“Valemont?” His voice was direct. No good morning. “The temporary custody hearing’s been scheduled.”

I froze where I stood. The noise from the site turned into a dull hum.

“When?”

“Today.” A short pause. “Two o’clock.”

I felt the ground shift under me. Not enough to fall. Just enough to remind me how heavy my body suddenly was. That physical reminder that I wasn’t in control.

“Today…”

“Yes. And I need you here.” His voice lowered. “Calm. No improvising. Understood?”

I looked up at the gray sky and thought, no improvising. Lately, my entire life had been improvising.

“Understood.”

I hung up and stood there for a few seconds. Breathing the way I’d taught Bella when she got anxious. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The difference was, I wasn’t seven. And breathing didn’t perform miracles.

I got in the car and drove to Florentia like I was going to retrieve a piece of myself I’d left behind

somewhere.

Gwen opened the door before I even knocked. Like she knew. Like ever since she stepped into my life, she’d developed some kind of radar for when I was about to break.

She was in a sweatshirt, her hair tied back carelessly, but she still looked like… Gwen. The woman the world saw as unstoppable. The woman who, right then, looked more human than I’d ever seen her.

“Cross?” she asked. Just one word. But it carried everything.

I nodded.

“Temporary hearing. Today.”

The silence between us wasn’t empty. It was full of what ifs. Full of how. Full of what is she going to try

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Chapter 688

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now?

Gwen rested her fingertips lightly on my arm. A small touch, like she was steadying something on the verge of falling.

“Do you want me to come?”

It sounded like a simple question. It wasn’t. It meant, Do you want me beside you if they try to take your daughter? Do you want me in the line of fire?

I did. More than want, I needed her there. But I was also afraid. Afraid her presence would become an

argument.

“I do,” I said, honesty beating calculation. “But you don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.”

She gave me a short, humorless smile.

“Nick, I’m not letting you walk in there alone.”

I saw the decision in her eyes. That Kensington way of choosing something and being done with it.

On the drive, the city felt wrong. Florentia was too beautiful for what I was feeling. People walking, drinking coffee, laughing. Like the world wasn’t about to decide whether I was a “sufficient” father.

I gripped the steering wheel too tightly. Gwen noticed.

“Breathe,” she said quietly, like I was Bella. But without making me feel small. “You can’t walk in there shaking.”

“I’m not shaking.”

“Okay,” she accepted the lie without arguing. “But your hand’s turning white.”

I loosened my grip on the wheel, like that would fix it.

It didn’t.

The courthouse was a building I’d seen from the outside before, from a distance. Like watching a storm

on the horizon.

Inside, it was worse.

Cold. Marble. Echoes. A place where voices felt smaller than they should.

Cross was waiting near the entrance. Dark suit. Briefcase in hand. The kind of man who probably slept with case files under his pillow.

“Valemont,” he said, shaking my hand. Then he looked at Gwen and gave her a respectful nod. “Ms. Kensington.”

Gwen nodded back. Her face was neutral. But I saw the tension in her jaw, like she’d layered social restraint over what she really wanted to do. Kick the door open and shout that no one touched her family.

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“The hearing will be quick,” Cross warned as we walked. “It’s an urgent measure. They’ll hear you, review the technical report, and decide whether to maintain the current arrangement until the main hearing or change something.”

I swallowed.

“Technical report…” I repeated, the term already making my skin crawl.

“From the interview and home visit, yes.” He didn’t say social worker. Didn’t say evaluator. He knew what he was doing. “It’s not final. But it carries weight.”

Gwen moved a little closer as we walked. I felt her warmth. Silent support.

When we stepped into the waiting area on the floor, I saw Renee.

Gwen stiffened beside me. Almost imperceptible. But I felt it. The gravity between them.

Renee stood slowly when she saw us.

“Nick,” she said. I hated the way she used my name like it belonged to her. “Gwen.”

I didn’t respond. Neither did Gwen.

Renee smiled. Small. Controlled. And I saw the performance behind it. ‘Look how calm I am. Look how I’m the mother. Look how they’re the chaos.’

Her lawyer leaned in and whispered something. She nodded and sat back down, but her eyes never left

Cross made a subtle motion with his hand.

“Don’t look at her. Don’t react. Any reaction becomes ammunition.”

Ammunition. I thought about that bitterly. Renee was a factory for ammunition.

We sat on the opposite side of the room. Gwen crossed her legs and kept her spine straight. But I saw her finger tap once against her knee. A tiny tell.

“I hate places like this,” she whispered.

I would’ve laughed, if I’d still had that in me.

“Me too.”

Time passed in a cruel way. Not real time. The kind where you can hear your own heartbeat in your

throat.

Then a door opened and a clerk called our names.

I stood like I was walking into a trial about who I was as a man.

Gwen stood too, and I instinctively grabbed her hand for a second. A silent don’t leave me alone.

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But our lawyer signaled for her to stay. She nodded, but her eyes locked on me.

Renee walked past us like she was on a runway. Her lawyer carrying his briefcase like a sword.

The room was smaller than I’d imagined. More intimate. More suffocating. A table in the center. Chairs. Pale walls. Nothing grand. Just enough to decide a life.

The judge walked in and everyone stood. A tired-faced man with a neutral voice, like he’d heard the same heartbreak a thousand times.

We sat again once he settled.

Cross spoke first. Direct. No drama. I barely processed the words, just the rhythm. “Stability.” “Routine.” Well-being.” “Best interest.”

“”

Renee’s lawyer responded with that rehearsed tone of controlled indignation. He talked about “emotional instability,” “recent changes,” “influences.” I wanted to stand up and shout that it was a lie. That instability had a name and she was sitting right there.

But I breathed. And I didn’t give her a scene.

The judge asked me two direct questions. I answered directly. Without attacking Renee. Just describing my daily life with Bella. My commitment. My love.

Then he looked at Renee and asked similar questions. She answered like she’d memorized every line with someone coaching her.

And finally, he lowered his gaze to a sheet of paper in front of him.

The report. The damn report.

He read in silence for a few seconds, and I felt my palms start to sweat.

Then the judge looked up.

“Based on the technical evaluation and the minor’s well-being, I grant the request for a provisional measure, establishing temporary residence with…”

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