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"I saw an opportunity," he admitted, his voice rough. "A way to get close to Coombes, to finally get justice for my parents."
I pulled my hand away, trying to absorb what he was telling me. "So this was all... revenge?"
"At first," Daddy acknowledged, reaching for me again. "But Matty, you have to believe me—that changed the moment I met you."
I stared at him, irrationally hurt. "When? When did it change?"
"The car. I've never been so terrified in my life. The thought of losing you..." He trailed off, his eyes intense.
My head was spinning with this revelation. "You married me to get revenge on my godfather."
"Yes," he admitted, not looking away. "But that's not why I'm still here. That's not why I've been taking care of you, protecting you." His large hand cupped my cheek. "I care about you, Matty. More than I expected to. More than it makes sense for me to given how little time we've known each other."
I pulled back slightly, needing space to think. "Harold tried to kill me. Twice. And you knew he was dangerous all along."
Daddy's expression darkened. "I knew he was ruthless in business. I never imagined he'd try to murder his own godson, or to offer me a bribe to leave you." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "When that car nearly hit you, everything changed. My priority became keeping you safe."
"And the club?" I asked. "Do they all know about your vendetta?"
"Jono, Digger, and Cruise do," he admitted. "They helped me set up the meeting with Ricky, made sure my background would pass your screening."
I laughed humorlessly. "So Ricky was in on it too? Of course he was."
"No," Daddy said firmly. "Ricky had no idea. He genuinely thought I was interested in the arrangement for the money. He was trying to help you."
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly chilled despite the warm room. "It would be incredibly hypocritical of me to take exception to your reason when I…I wanted revenge as well, or to stop him." I closed my eyes for a few seconds.
"Believe this," Daddy said, reaching for me again. "Whatever my initial intentions, what I feel for you now is real. When I saw that gun pointed at you in this house, when I realized how close I came to losing you, again..." His voice broke slightly. "I've never felt terror like that."
I studied his face, searching for deception but finding only raw honesty. "It's okay." And it was.
"I wish I'd told you sooner," he said, and I scoffed.
"When exactly?" I shook my head. "In the whole week we've been married? At the courthouse? After you saved my life?"
"You don't hate me?"
"How can I hate you when you did what I needed?" I whispered. "I offered money. Your reasons for accepting that aren't mine to judge." And it was true.
"They aren't?" he asked, his voice quiet but steady.
I closed my eyes, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions. Daddy hadn't betrayed me. Who was I to judge his own truths against mine? I remembered how he'd held me through my panic attacks, how he'd washed my hair when I was too hungover to stand. No," I finally admitted. "But I don't know where we go from here." He didn't seem to mind me calling him Daddy, anyway. Should I make sure I didn't do it too much?
Daddy nodded, accepting this. "Where we go is making sure you're safe."
"You said Harold tried to bribe you to divorce me?" I asked, recalling his earlier revelation.
"Today, at the bar," Daddy confirmed. "Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to walk away. I pretended to consider it to buy us some time."
I processed this, trying to understand Harold's desperation. "Did he say why?"
"Claimed it was for your own good," Daddy said, his voice hardening. "Talked about you like you were a burden, a problem to be managed. Called your Little space 'childish episodes' — like it was something shameful."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "You don't mind? About... the occasional Little things?"
Daddy's expression softened, and tugged at the whiskers on my chin. "Matty, you've been in your Little space for the past three days. After the attack here, you retreated completely."
"Oh god," I whispered, memories flooding back. Dinosaur pajamas. Coloring books. Being carried to the bathroom. Calling him "Daddy." Mortification burned through me. "I'm so sorry."