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Bought A Gigolo, Got A Billionaire CEO

Bought A Gigolo, Got A Billionaire CEO

Alexis signed the divorce papers, leaving her with no assets, no alimony, and just the clothes on her back. To forget her abusive husband Carlos, she got drunk and bought a high-end gigolo for the night with her last 800 dollars. But the man she slept with wasn't an escort. He was Jarrett Hughes, a ruthless billionaire CEO. And while she was gone, her ex-husband was busy destroying her entire life. Carlos framed her with fake photos of her cheating to justify the penniless divorce. Then came the real nightmare. Carlos and her own aunt secretly drained her family's corporate accounts, driving her father to jump off a building. At the hospital, her grieving mother blamed her for the tragedy, violently attacking her in the ER. To top it off, her cousin Josie—who was secretly sleeping with Carlos—held her father's ashes hostage. "Crawl on your knees and pick it up, or the ashes go in the river," Josie sneered, throwing cash into the freezing slush. Stripped of her marriage, her father, and her dignity, Alexis sat bleeding in the snow. She couldn't understand why the people she loved most had coordinated such a brutal slaughter against her. But Carlos and Josie made one fatal mistake. They didn't know the "gigolo" Alexis had accidentally bought was the most powerful man in New York. Alexis looked at the towering billionaire standing behind her, a vengeful fire burning in her eyes. "I need you to get my father's ashes back," she said, pulling him into a kiss right in front of her ex-husband. "I don't care what it takes."
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Chapter 8

Alexis shuffled down the long hospital corridor, keeping her shoulder pressed against the wall for balance. She stopped at the nurses' station, signed the Against Medical Advice discharge papers with a shaking hand, and accepted the massive bill she had no way of paying. She pushed through the revolving glass doors of the main entrance. From his vantage point in the Maybach parked securely across the street, Jarrett watched the hospital entrance, his jaw tight. He had instructed Bruno to wait here, a grim premonition telling him her ordeal was far from over. The harsh afternoon sun hit her eyes, making her head throb violently. The cold wind whipped around her bare legs beneath the hospital gown. She took a deep breath of the freezing air, trying to clear the dizziness, and stepped onto the sidewalk. A screech of tires shattered the street noise. A cherry-red Porsche Macan swerved sharply toward the curb, cutting off her path. The car jerked to a halt. The driver's side door popped open. Josie stepped out. She was dressed in a pristine white Chanel winter coat, her hair perfectly blown out, oversized designer sunglasses hiding half her face. Josie pulled off the sunglasses and looked Alexis up and down. A loud, exaggerated scoff escaped her glossy lips. "Look at you," Josie sneered, waving a manicured hand in front of her nose as if Alexis smelled. "You look like a diseased stray dog." Alexis stared at her with dead eyes. She didn't have the energy for this. She stepped to the side, attempting to walk around the front of the Porsche. Josie moved quickly, side-stepping to block her again. She reached into her expensive leather tote bag and pulled out a thick legal document. She slapped the paper hard against Alexis's chest. "Sign the NDA," Josie demanded. "You agree to never speak to the press about the divorce, the bankruptcy, or Carlos. You disappear quietly." Alexis looked down at the paper. A cold, bitter laugh scraped its way up her throat. She grabbed the document, gripped the edges, and ripped it in half, then in quarters. She let the pieces fall from her hands, scattering into the dirty slush on the sidewalk. Josie's face tightened with fury. Then, a cruel, wicked smile spread across her lips. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen and shoved it inches from Alexis's face. The screen displayed a high-resolution photo of a black marble urn sitting on a metal table. "Aunt Dollie bought off the funeral home," Josie said, her voice dripping with venom. "We have August's ashes." Alexis felt a physical blow to her stomach. Her eyes widened in absolute horror. She lunged forward, her hands shooting out to grab the lapels of Josie's pristine white coat. "Give him back!" Alexis screamed, her voice cracking, her fingers twisting the expensive fabric. "Give my father back!" Josie shoved her violently. Alexis, weak from blood loss and shock, stumbled backward. Her heel caught on a crack in the pavement. She fell hard, her knees slamming into the concrete, the wound on her forehead throbbing as fresh blood began to seep through the gauze. Josie stood over her, adjusting her coat. "Sign the new papers I send you, and leave the state. Or I swear to God, I will dump this urn straight into the Hudson River." Alexis sat on the freezing ground, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. The absolute despair threatened to crush her chest. Fifty feet away, sitting in the back of the parked Maybach, Jarrett watched the entire scene through the tinted glass. The leather steering wheel creaked under the pressure of his grip. He pushed the heavy door open and stepped out into the cold. Josie didn't notice the towering figure approaching. She opened her designer wallet and pulled out a thick stack of crisp, hundred-dollar bills. She held the money out, pinching it between two fingers. "Here," Josie mocked, opening her fingers. The green bills fluttered down, raining over Alexis's head and shoulders, landing in the dirty puddles around her knees. "Pick it up, beggar," Josie commanded sharply. "Crawl on your knees and pick it up."

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