*ROWAN CADE* loved mornings.
Or at least, that was what Y/N believed.
She watched him from the doorway as he moved around the kitchen with effortless familiarity—rolling up his sleeves, humming under his breath, handling the space like it already belonged to him. Like she belonged to him.
"You're staring," Rowan said gently, without looking up.
Y/N blinked and smiled. "Just… thinking how lucky I am."
He turned then, eyes warm, smile soft. The kind of smile that made people trust without questioning why.
"I'm the lucky one," he said, crossing the room to her.
He brushed his thumb under her eye. "You look tired. Did you sleep properly?"
She nodded, though it wasn't entirely true. "I'm fine."
Rowan frowned—just slightly. "You always say that."
There was concern in his voice. Too much of it. As if he needed her to be okay.
He poured coffee into her cup before she could answer, adding exactly one spoon of sugar.
He never forgot.
Not her habits, not her routines, not the way she liked things done.
"You shouldn't skip breakfast," he said softly. "I worry."
"I know," she laughed. "You worry more than my parents."
Rowan smiled at that, but something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.
"That's because I know you better than anyone," he said. "Better than they ever could."
The words sounded romantic.
They felt romantic.
Yet something about the way he said them made her fingers tighten around the mug.
She ignored it.
She always did.
"Did you check the documents I sent last night?" Rowan asked casually, leaning against the counter.
Y/N nodded. "Yes. Everything's in order now.
The lawyer said once it's finalized, there won't be any issues."
Rowan exhaled slowly, like he'd been holding his breath.
"That's a relief," he murmured. "I hate seeing you stressed about money."
Money.
The word settled between them, heavy but unspoken.
"I'm not stressed," Y/N said quickly. "It's just… responsibility."
Rowan stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
His chin rested on her shoulder, his voice near her ear.
"You shouldn't carry everything alone," he whispered. "That's what I'm here for."
She relaxed into him.
She didn't notice how his grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her he was there.
Always there.
"You trust me, right?" he asked softly.
Y/N laughed. "Rowan, of course I do."
He smiled against her skin.
Good.
Trust was such a fragile thing.
And once given, it was so easy to break.
He pulled away, brushing a kiss to her temple. "I'll walk you out."
At the door, he fixed her scarf, straightened her bag, checked the weather on his phone.
"Call me when you reach," he said. "And don't talk to strangers."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not a child."
"I know," Rowan replied gently. "But the world isn't kind."
The door closed behind her.
The apartment fell silent.
Rowan didn't move for a long moment.
Then his smile disappeared.
He walked back to the kitchen, picked up Y/N's untouched coffee cup, and stared into the dark liquid like it might answer him.
"So careless," he murmured—not to her, but to himself.
He opened his phone.
Scrolled.
Bank details. Asset transfers. Dates.
All tied to her name.
His name wasn't there.
Yet.
Rowan locked the phone and set it down carefully.
"She trusts me," he whispered, calm and certain. "That's all that matters."
He washed the cup, dried it, placed it back exactly where it belonged.
By the time Y/N returned, everything would look normal.
Loving.
Safe.
And she would never see the danger standing right beside her—
smiling, waiting, loving her just enough to destroy her...