As soon as I get to the kitchen, Theo sets a plate in front of me—eggs, bacon, fruit, a stupidly sweet kiss on my forehead— and whispers, “Eat, baby. You’re going to need the energy.”
After breakfast, or my best attempt at nibbling food while my entire body throbs, Theo sitsnext to me, and he runs his hand down my thigh, gentle, soothing. I melted into him out of instinct.
Then he clears his throat. And I know that sound. I freeze. “Don’t you dare break the mood,” I whisper dramatically.
“Sam,” he says softly, brushing hair from my face, “we need to talk about our prenup.” Every molecule in my body screams no. I drop my head on his shoulder. “My legs don’t work. My voice is gone. I am freshly fucked and deeply dehydrated. You’re picking a BAD time to be a responsible adult.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “But I also know you. If we don’t talk about it now, you’re going to spiral later.” Ugh, I hate this man.
“Okay, talk,” I whisper. He exhales, thumb tracing slow circles on my hip.
“There’s a clause I wanted to add, well, I added it already,” he says. “About your trust fund.” Of course. My stomach twists a little. He continues before I can react, “I want you to cash it before we get married.”
What. The. Fuck. I blink. “What? Why?”
“Because,” he says, cupping my cheek, “I want it separate from Hayes International. Completely protected. Completely yours. I don’t want it tied to my life, my company, or my name. I want you to be safe from your father. From anyone.” I stare at him. “So, you want me to use my trust fund… to protect me from my trust fund?”
“Yes, essentially,” he says, unapologetically, like it’s the clearest logic on earth. “Because you’re young andstubborn. And maybe one day you’ll want options you can’t see right now. I’m protecting your future.” My throat tightens. “You don’t care about that money, so why?” I whisper. “No,” he says immediately. “But, I do care about you.”
I sigh. “If I weren’t so sore, I’d be arguing harder. But I’m exhausted from all the…thingswe did last night.” I smack his chest. He catches my hand and kisses it while looking at me like asking for forgiveness. I groan. “Fine, I’ll talk to my lawyer and my accountant.”
He smiles like he just won the lottery. I look at him, groggy, ruined, loved, overwhelmed. “Thank you for always looking out for me, even when I don’t see it that way,” I whisper.
“Always”
Me: Hey, can we meet? I need a lawyer.
Naomi: Why? What happened? Are you okay? What did you do, Samantha?
Me: Nothing, I’m okay, just need to talk about some things.
Naomi: Okay. That’s not vagueat all.
I arrived at the coffee shop near the office, and Naomi was already there, laptop closed, coffee untouched. She looked up the second she saw me, eyes flicking over my face like she was running diagnostics.
“So,” she said, folding her hands. “Talk to me.” Not hello. How are you? She was in full business mode.
“Theo wants me to cash out my trust before we get married.”
“Okay, that’s smart. But why?” she asked slowly. “He says he wants to make sure it’s mine,” I said. “That he doesn’t want it tied to the company. I think he wants to protect me. He keeps saying he wants to take care of me, that this way the money can never be used against me.” Naomi let out a slow breath, rubbing her thumb against the edge of the table. “That’s not a casual request, Sam.”
“I know,” I whispered. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I never wanted that money, but it is mine.”
“You’ll inherit it anyway when Dad dies, so it will be yours sooner or later.” I hate this conversation so much. “I cashed mine out right at twenty-one,” she said. I looked up. “You did?” That doesn’t surprise me much. Naomi has always been the smart and calculated one. She softened then—really softened. “This is your life,” she said. “And on this one, I’m on Theo’s side. This is your money, and it should be onlyyours. There are other accounts where you can put it under your name and your rules. I can help you cash it, and then open those accounts.”
I hesitated. “You really think this is the right move?”
“I think you’re marrying a man who wants you protected,” she said. Then, quieter, “And that matters.”
“How much is it?” She asks like I have a clue. “I don’t know, I texted Lauren on my way here, she said she’ll send the papers via email, but I haven’t opened it.”
“You coward,” Naomi said affectionately. “Give me that.” She takes my phone out of my hands and stares at me. “Not bad, it is a bit higher than mine, but you’re cashing it a few years later than me, and Dad put some interest accruals and clauses to those accounts. That makes sense.”
When I finally saw the number, I almost choked on my drink.
$26,650,000
I hate my family.
