The bacon is sizzling on the stove, and the chocolate chip pancakes are piling higher on a plate. Harper’s favorite indulgent breakfast. She’s sleeping in this morning, still curled under the covers and dead to the world. I’ve been awake for hours, getting in a workout with the equipment Liam has in the garage. It’s not enough to replace a gym, but it will do for this morning.

Since finding out Harper’s pregnant, I haven’t wanted to exhaust her too much or drag her to the gym when she’d rather be anywhere else. The morning sickness has been coming and going over these past few days, and her sweet tooth has been even more indulgent than usual. I don’t mind, though. I’ll meet her every whim with a fucking smile on my face.

News on Rafael has been quiet over the past few days; nothing else has shown up or threatened us. Kiernan’s still digging for information, and Rafael’s hidey-hole is eluding James. I have every bit of confidence I will take this fucker down and my girl and our baby will live a peaceful life with nothing in our way.

My laptop is open to an email with potential real estate listings––both residential and commercial. Harper hasn’t seen a house online she’s interested in yet. She refuses to look at anything over a certain price point, even though we can more than afford it. I saved and invested the majority of the millions Santiago left for a purpose like this. Spoiling my girl by buying her the house of her dreams is the best way I can think to use the money. My investments have almost doubled, but she refuses to look at the houses I show her.

When the bacon is done, I make a plate for Harper, carrying it into the bedroom for her. Gently shaking her awake with the plate behind my back, I smile as her eyes slowly open, landing on me as I place the orange juice on the nightstand. She huffs and closes them again, bringing the blanket higher to cover her face. I shake her again, this time holding the plate in front of me. Her eyes are hard and grumpy when they open again until they land on the plate of food. I try not to take offense when she leaps up and grabs the plate from me. I shake my head, laughing—the chef doesn’t get a good-morning kiss, but the pancakes get a long, drawn-out moan.

I watch her eat happily, my chest filling with pride and puffing out a bit that I’m the man to put that smile there by doing something she didn’t even ask for. Her smile is my reason for living and breathing, and I’ll work myself to the bone for that smile. It lights up her entire face, making her brown eyes sparkle.

I get up from the bed when the doorbell rings. Kiernan’s standing on the other side of the door, holding a stack of papers with a bewildered expression.

“What’s going on?” I ask, immediately on alert.

“I found her money.” His eyes get even larger. “Where’s Harper?”

“She’s eating breakfast.”

“Get her, we need to talk.”

He pushes past me into the house, sitting on the couch in the living room and staring down at the papers in his hands. My stomach fills with dread at what he found. His shocked expression and worried eyes have me on edge.

I step into the bedroom, giving Harper a wary smile. Her face lights up when she sees me. “Sorry, baby, breakfast came first this morning. Thank you for breakfast.” She gets up, walking toward me, and stands on her tip toes to kiss me on the cheek. Fuck, she’s sweet. And happy. And I’m the bastard that just might ruin her day.

“Sugar,” I say, running my hand down her arm. “Kiernan’s here, he needs to talk to us.”

The bright smile immediately falls from her face. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know. He told me to get you so we could all talk. Get dressed, babe.”

I stand by the door, watching her change from her sexy sleepwear to a pair of jeans and casual shirt. Nothing less than perfection.

“Let’s go,” she says, grabbing my hand. I squeeze her, giving her all the reassurance I can in this moment. The dread in my gut is telling me everything’s about to change.

Harper and I sit down on the couch opposite of Kiernan. I get straight to the point. “What’s up?”

Kiernan looks at Harper, running his hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. “I think I know what he wants.”

“What is it?” Harper asks, gasping.

“Money,” Kiernan says. “I don’t know why he isn’t just saying money when he talks about it but, what I found, what else could he want?”

“What are you talking about?” I demand. “You’re not making any damn sense.”

“I don’t have any money,” Harper says, her shaking hand curling her hair behind her ear.

“You do, you just don’t know about it. I’m willing to bet he knows about it. You also have a safety deposit box in your name in Dallas.”

“Why didn’t she find out about any of this earlier? Why wasn’t this in the will?” I ask.

“It was already in her name so there was nothing to transfer after death. This is the bank where the safety deposit is.” Kiernan slides a piece of paper across the coffee table.

Harper picks it up, looking at the address. “This is where my dad banked. I’ve been there. He set up my first account there.”

“He was probably also putting the box in your name and you didn’t know.”

“Why?” Harper asks, clutching the piece of paper between her finger tips.

“I don’t know,” Kiernan says. “No documents contain what is inside the box, but you can go and look.”

“I don’t have a key or anything.”

“The bank will have a master key,” I say, rubbing Harper’s back. “We’ll head to Dallas today if you want or whenever you’re ready.”

“Today,” she said nodding once, determination settling over her face. Her hand lies against her flat belly. “I want to solve this as quickly as possible.”

“Are her accounts with the money there, too?” I ask Kiernan.

He sighs, rubbing his hands through his hair. “No. Every account in her name is offshore.”

“Offshore?” she asks. “I thought only tax evaders used offshore accounts.”

Kiernan rolls his lips between his teeth, not wanting to point out the fact that the money is there to avoid taxes and suspicion.

“Where?” I ask, moving past the potentially awkward situation. When Harper is ready to emotionally deal with her dad, we can talk about this, too.

“There are several accounts. Two from your parents. Three from Santiago. They’re split up all over the place. Bahamas, Switzerland, Grand Cayman, and Bermuda.”

“What?” Harper asks shocked. “How can there be that many? And why in so many places?”

“It’s another level of protection to split up the cash in different locations.”

“How much?” I ask. This must be where the money from her parents and Santiago is located. They wouldn’t have left her with so little, but if none of this had happened, she never would have known. That doesn’t seem right.

Kiernan takes a deep breath. “All together it’s three-fifty.”

“Thousand?” Harper asks shocked. “Why so much?”

Annoyance grates against my nerves—she shouldn’t think that’s a lot. Santiago left me five million, and for what? Maybe I was supposed to come back to Harper sooner. Maybe it actually belonged to Harper. The lawyer told me Santiago had just updated his will before and had intended to put a letter to me, but he died before giving the letter to the lawyer. Fuck. I always thought the letter would say he was proud I did something for myself after he paid for my school.

What if I stole Harper’s money? Three hundred fifty thousand? That’s it? I know it’s a lot of money, more than some see in a lifetime, but both her parents and Santiago had the means to give her more. Harper deserves more, she deserves every cent they had. What the hell were they doing? Why would Rafael be so concerned about that amount? That’s not even a drop in the bucket for the head of a cartel.

I will sign over the millions to my name. Today. It doesn’t matter that it would be hers anyway once she becomes my wife. It’s hers. Fuck, it must belong to her.

“No,” Kiernan says, drawing out the word. “Three hundred fifty million.”

“Oh,” Harper says, her jaw hanging open, staring at the piece of paper Kiernan is trying to hand her.

“Yeah,” I say sarcastically. “That makes sense why Rafael’s after it.”

“He can have it,” Harper says, still staring blankly at the paper she refuses to take. “I don’t want it.”

I grab the paper from Kiernan’s hand, looking at all the account numbers with the amounts in each.

“You’re not giving him this money, Harper,” I order.

“Why the hell not?” she asks, finally done with staring blankly. There’s an inferno behind her eyes, she isn’t ready to back down. “Don’t you dare try to tell me what to do with this. I don’t want it. He can have every last penny.”

“No,” I growl. “Your family left this for you.”

“It’s dirty money. My father and uncle were dirty. I don’t want to touch it. Rafael can have it, then he’ll leave us alone and let us have peace.”

Kiernan breaks in, stepping into our argument. “I don’t think he’d leave either one of you alone that quickly. If you fold easily to him, I fear what else he thinks he’d be able to do. Harper, this is your money.”

“It’s dirty,” she yells, looking back and forth between us with tears welling in her eyes.

All three of us look toward the door when the doorbell rings. Kiernan approaches it slowly, looking out the window. His tense shoulders relax before swinging open the door to let James in.

“No,” Harper yells, holding out her hand palm up, trying to ward him off. “Not you, too. I don’t want to hear it.”

James doesn’t say a word, only frowns, staring at Harper. His eyes meet mine after a second, and I nod.

“I found him.”

“Where?” I demand.

“One of his shell corporations owns the building where Harper’s apartment is. His apartment is across the hall.”

“Fuck,” Kiernan breathes.

I stand up from the couch, my hands balling into fists. “You’re telling me, he was right there all along? Fucking watching her all this time?”

James nods.

“That’s how he knew when I left her alone?”

James nods again. “I still think you have a rat problem.”

“Motherfucker,” I roar, pacing to keep the need to punch something at bay. I turn toward Harper. “You’re not giving him a fucking dime of your money.”

“What money?” James asks.

“My dad and Santiago left me three hundred fifty million dollars. I just found out. Want it?”

James stares at her, his eyes bugging out of his head, and I’ve never seen him so expressive. “Uh, no thanks.”

“Do you think Savannah and Liam want it? They just got married, newlyweds always need money, right?”

James looks at her like she’s lost her mind but doesn’t answer her.

“Can we transfer the money to her bank account here?” I ask Kiernan.

“Moving that type or cash isn’t something that goes unnoticed, it would raise a lot of red flags. It can slowly be moved in small increments. Still though, red flags. It will be easy enough to get debit cards for each account.”

“Do whatever you want,” Harper says. “I’m not taking the money.”

“It’s yours,” I say.

“My dad and Santiago did God knows what to earn that money. I won’t touch it.”

I shake my head, refusing to argue about this anymore. “We need to get going if we’re going to make it Dallas in time.”

“Fine,” Harper agrees, marching off toward the bedroom.

“Fuck, this is a mess,” I mutter with my hands on my hips.

“Hopefully whatever’s in the safety deposit box will shed some light,” Kiernan says.