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"And if you don't make it?"
"Everything goes to Harold," I whispered. "My parents' entire estate."
Novo's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "How much are we talking about?"
I shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. The lawyers said it's several million plus properties. My parents were well-off." I picked at a loose thread on Patches' ear. "Not that I care about the money itself. I just don't want him to have it."
"You said he's your godfather?"
"He's actually a cousin of my dad's, hence the same last name. He was my father's business partner. When my parents died, he became my guardian. When I was a child I called him Uncle Harold." My voice turned bitter. "Not that he ever acted like family."
Novo nodded slowly, processing this. "And he controls your current finances?"
"He gives me an 'allowance'—barely enough to cover this apartment and food." I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them. "He froze all my accounts two years ago. Said I was being irresponsible with my money."
"Were you?" Novo asked, his voice neutral.
I flinched. "I... I don't know. Maybe? I traveled a lot, spent without thinking." I buried my face against my knees. "I never had to worry about money before."
When I looked up, Novo was watching me with an unreadable expression. "And now you're trying to get your inheritance back with this marriage."
"Yes." I swallowed hard. "I know it sounds... calculated. But I don't have any other choice."
Novo was quiet for a long moment. "We should get some sleep," he finally said, standing up. "We can talk more tomorrow."
I nodded, suddenly exhausted. The emotional toll of the day had drained me completely. "There are extra blankets in the hall closet," I said, getting to my feet. "And pillows."
"I'll find them," Novo assured me. "Go to bed, Matty."
I hesitated, clutching Patches to my chest. "Thank you," I said softly. "For today. For... being kind."
Something flickered in Novo's blue eyes. "Get some rest, boy."
The "boy" sent a strange warmth through me, and I hurried back to my bedroom before he could say anything else. Once inside, I closed the door and slid under the covers, Patches still clutched in my arms.
What was I doing? I'd married a complete stranger—a massive, tattooed biker who could probably snap me in half without breaking a sweat. And yet... the way he'd held me during my panic attack, the gentleness in his hands as he ran my bath, the way he'd called me "boy" in that deep, rumbling voice.
I buried my face in Patches' fur. I couldn't afford to get confused about what this was. Novo had been clear—he was here for the money. This was a business arrangement, nothing more. The fact that he was being kind didn't mean anything. He was probably just making sure I didn't back out of our deal.
Novo
I scrubbed a hand over my face and stared up at the ceiling. It was true I had slept on much worse than a couch. There’d been plenty of nights I’d been lucky to get any sort of rest on the cold, hard ground, especially with the sound of gunfire keeping everyone very much awake.
But that wasn’t what was keeping me awake right now. I could easily insist we move to a bigger place by the terms of the contract. I could take the bed. I’d expected to spend my time plotting revenge from a luxury hotel or penthouse with what I knew of Matthew Coombes, but the Matty I’d met and married yesterday had thrown me. The spoiled brat I'd been told about and the frightened young man sleeping in the bedroom didn't match. The modest apartment, the panic attack at the mention of this James Degrassi, the way he clutched that stuffed dog like a lifeline—none of it fit the profile I'd been given.
And Harold Coombes? The more I learned about that bastard, the more I wanted to destroy him. Not just for what he'd done to my family anymore. The way Matty talked about him, the fear in his eyes when he mentioned his godfather—it painted a picture of control and manipulation that went beyond mere financial abuse.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. Cruise.
Digger's digging. Initial financials look interesting. Coombes has been bleeding the trust dry for years. Legal but sketchy. Will have more tomorrow. Degrassi has a reputation in certain circles. Not good.
I frowned at the screen. If Coombes had been draining the trust, that might explain why he was so desperate to prevent Matty from getting married. It wasn't just about control—it was about money.
And if Degrassi had a bad reputation... I thought of Matty's panic attack, the way he'd trembled at just the mention of the man's name.
I texted him back.Keep digging. Need everything on both.
I set my phone down and listened. The apartment was quiet. I wondered if Matty was actually sleeping or if he was lying awake like me, clutching that stuffed dog and trying to make sense of his new reality.