Ultimately, Charlotte couldn't be blamed for her confusion. The two men were practically identical—the same height, the same build, the same resonant voice, and the same piercing eyes. The only real distinction was their aura: Zachary possessed a cold, suffocating arrogance, while Chris radiated a reckless, almost childish charm.

Before this, the "Gigolo In Debt" had always worn a mask, appearing only under the cover of night. Chris had successfully impersonated him once, gaining access to the secrets of their arrangement and Charlotte’s personal struggles. Given the circumstances, it was perfectly logical for her to mistake one for the other.

"Start talking. What exactly is going on?" Charlotte demanded, her tone sharp with suspicion.

Chris’s heart hammered against his ribs. He hesitated, his mind racing to construct a story that wouldn't get him killed by Zachary or loathed by Charlotte.

"You’re supposed to be a gigolo," Charlotte bombarded him with questions before he could speak. "So why is everyone saying you’re the heir to a billionaire family? Why did you suddenly take off the mask and expose your face? And why are you at Bar DTT every single day? What is your connection to Peter?"

Chris paused, weighing his options. Finally, he decided to feed her a half-truth wrapped in a clever lie. "Look at it this way... the whole thing was a misunderstanding from the start. I was never a gigolo."

Technically, this was the truth. Zachary had never actually claimed to be a gigolo; it was Charlotte’s own frantic assumptions that had created the label, and Zachary had simply been too amused—or too annoyed—to correct her.

"You're saying that..." Charlotte trailed off, her mind flashing back to the night they first met.

He had been alone in a luxury VIP suite, surrounded by elite security guards. Even then, she had felt it was a strange level of privilege for a common escort. She realized now that she had never actually seen him with another client. Their entire "business relationship" had existed mostly over the phone and in her own imagination. Was it all just a fantasy I created?

"That can't be right," Charlotte narrowed her eyes, her suspicion returning. "How do you explain what happened four years ago?"

"Four years ago? I just stumbled into the wrong room," Chris replied smoothly, his voice breezy and casual. "I guess you could call it fate bringing us together."

"I see..." Charlotte was finally beginning to believe him. "Then, your real identity is..."

"I'm just a rich playboy with too much time on my hands," Chris admitted. He knew his own character well enough to play the part convincingly. "That's a step up from a gigolo, right?"

"At least you have some self-awareness," Charlotte muttered, rolling her eyes. Then her expression hardened again. "So why did you pretend to be a gigolo and sign that 'debt agreement' with me?"

"For the fun of it." Chris let out a mischievous, boyish laugh. "I was bored. My life was too predictable—everything always goes my way. I craved a bit of adventure, a challenge. When you mistook me for a common worker and tried to 'enslave' me into a debt contract... honestly, it was exhilarating!"

He watched her carefully, flashing a puzzling, charming smile. He told himself it was just a game—as long as he didn't cross any major lines, there was no harm in playing along.

Charlotte stared at him, stunned. Something about his explanation felt off, but she couldn't put her finger on what. Her mind drifted back to her terrifying ordeal, and she pressed him further. "If you're who you say you are... then who was the person who saved me that night?"

Chris’s reflexes were lightning-fast. "Why are you asking? Did someone say something to you?"

"My boss told me he was the one who saved my life," Charlotte said, her voice dropping.

"Your boss?" Chris’s heart sank. Don't tell me Zachary is already making his move...

"The pervert boss," Charlotte whispered, the mere mention of Zachary’s name triggering a flicker of fear in her eyes. "My colleague told me she saw him carrying me out through the back exit. I asked him about it today, and he claimed the same thing... but the person I woke up with the next morning was clearly you."

Charlotte’s face flushed a deep crimson, and she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to maintain eye contact as she remembered the intimacy of that morning.

Chris watched her, his mind piecing together the timeline. If Zachary had carried her out while she was drugged... and then Charlotte woke up feeling like she’d been through a passionate night...

A wave of possessive jealousy washed over him. The thought that Zachary had "tainted" the woman he wanted infuriated him.

"Well? Tell me!" Charlotte pestered him, desperate for clarity.

"He was the one who found you first," Chris lied, his voice steady and convincing. As a veteran womanizer, weaving a web of deceit was second nature to him. "He rescued you from the room, but I arrived shortly after and snatched you away from him. I was the one who took care of you the rest of the night."