Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 698

Chapter 698

Renee’s POV

The elevator doors were almost closed when I slipped inside with Nick.

He looked like a man who had already made a decision. Jaw locked. Eyes fixed on nothing. Breathing short, like he was trying not to explode in the wrong place.

He didn’t even look at me.

The note was still burning in my hand, crumpled from how tightly I’d been gripping it.

‘I’m going back to Dad.’

That piece of paper wasn’t proof of anything. And yet it was the only solid thing in a situation that was slipping out of my control.

The elevator descended, and the silence inside that metal box felt like a verdict.

I broke first.

“When you go file that… report,” I said, choosing the word like I was offering something reasonable, “don’t put my name on it.”

Nick let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I kept my tone low, practical. “Say she was with you. Say you… whatever.”

He finally turned his head.

The look in his eyes was the kind men like Nick use when they want you to un

line.

d you’ve crossed a

“I just want to find my daughter,” he said slowly, like each word had to fit somewhere safe. “And you’re thinking about how the blame might land on you.”

I inhaled through my nose.

“That’s not it, it’s just-”

I hadn’t even finished the thought when he cut me off.

“You really don’t know what it means to be a mother, do you?” he spat.

The words were so raw that for a second I wanted to slap him.

I stiffened.

“Don’t act like a saint with me, Nick.” My voice came out colder than I intended. “I’m her mother on paper.

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And that’s what matters right now.”

The doors opened.

The parking garage greeted us with its concrete echo and cold engines. Nick walked out first, fast, already pulling his car keys from his pocket. I followed. Not because I was a worried mother.

Because I wasn’t about to let this story unfold outside my line of sight.

He headed straight for his car.

I turned toward the visitor parking.

I’d left my car there because it was easier. Because I could come and go without notice, ever since Gwen had granted me permanent access for when I arrived with Bella.

I got inside and started the engine with steady hands.

When Nick pulled out, I waited just long enough for it not to look like I was following him.

Then I drove out right behind him.

He drove like a man late to save someone.

I drove like a woman late to save her own skin.

At the first intersection, I already had my phone in my hand, Bluetooth connected, calling my lawyer.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Renee? Did something happen?”

“Bella’s missing,” I said.

Silence.

“What?”

“My daughter. Missing.” I kept my tone dry. If I layered too much emotion into it, he’d offer comfort. I didn’t need comfort. I needed strategy.

“What do you mean ‘missing’?” he asked, and now I could hear the professional side of him switch on.” Renee, from where? Your house?”

“That’s not what matters right now,” I cut in. “What matters is that her father is on his way to the police.”

“Nicholas?” he asked, confused.

“Yes.” My jaw tightened. “He thinks I… that I let this happen. If he files a report, can this turn into negligence against me?”

“Renee, I need to understand what happened,” he insisted, in that infuriatingly calm tone of someone

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who wants a timeline.

“I dropped her off at school. The little brat didn’t go in,” I snapped, only realizing the word after it left my mouth. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t there to judge my vocabulary. “The principal called asking why she never showed up.”

“You dropped her at the entrance and left?” he asked, and I heard the trap inside the question.

“I did. She got out. She knows the way.” My voice rose half a tone. “She’s seven, not three. The school has a gate. Staff. Cameras.”

“Okay,” he said, and I could hear typing on his end. “Let’s structure this. Negligence, broadly speaking, is failure in the duty of care that results in risk or harm. With a minor, they’ll look at supervision, foreseeability, what actions were taken afterward-”

“So it can turn into something,” I cut in.

“It can turn into a narrative,” he corrected carefully. “It depends on what’s alleged and what gets officially

recorded.”

Traffic slowed for a moment and I gripped the steering wheel harder.

“What do I do now?” I asked.

“Do you want the lawyer answer or-”

“I want the answer that works,” I snapped.

He exhaled.

“Then do what you do best. Control the narrative.”

I narrowed my eyes, focusing on Nick’s car ahead of me.

“Explain.”

“If he walks into the police station saying, ‘My daughter went missing under her mother’s supervision,’ that’s how the report starts. If the police suspect carelessness, that goes into documentation. If documentation reaches the judge, you become the negligent mother.” A pause. “You need to prevent his version from becoming the dominant one.”

Anger tightened my stomach. Anger at being in a position where I could lose ground because of a child who decided to play adventurer.

“And how exactly do I prevent that?” I asked.

“You create your version before one is created against you,” he said, voice lower now. Sharper. “And you do it where stories spread fast.”

I knew where he was going before he finished.

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Still, he said it.

“Leak it to the press.”

P

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