Novels by Davidson Matthew

Lily stared at her father. The envelope lay open between them, its paper edges softened by years of handling, though the notice inside looked newer than the rest of it. She could hear the kitchen clock ticking. Upstairs, Daniel’s footsteps crossed the floor and stopped.“What conditions?” she asked.Peter lowered himself into the chair beside the desk. “ Like I said before, we were given a repayment plan. Monthly instalments. A longer deadline. It was difficult, but we thought we could manage.”“Then why did you tell me the debt couldn’t be renegotiated?”“Because it couldn’t,” Helen said from the doorway.Lily turned to her mother. “Dad just said you had a plan.”“We had an offer,” Helen replied. “That isn’t the same thing as an agreement.”“Then which one of you is telling me the truth?”Neither answered quickly enough.The silence felt familiar now: the pause before another piece of her life was explained away as something too complicated for her to understand. Lily pulled the no

Lily read her father’s message again outside the lecture hall.The words followed her through the seminar. She tried to take notes and forced herself to answer a question about contractual obligations, but her page was filled with half-finished sentences.When the lecture ended, Ciara waited beside the steps.“You’re going home?” she asked.“My father says he needs to explain something before Marcel acts again.”“Do you want me to come with you?”Lily considered it. She needed to hear what her parents would say without allowing them to turn the conversation into a performance for someone else.“Not yet. If I need you, I’ll call.”“Promise you won’t sign anything.”“I won’t sign a thing until I understand every line.”Ciara squeezed her arm. “Keep your records somewhere safe.”“I have copies backed up.”“That’s one thing they can’t easily take from you.”When she reached home, the curtains were drawn despite the afternoon light. Her father sat at the kitchen table with the contract sp

Lily Couldn't sleep.Every time she closed her eyes, Marcel’s voice returned with the same calm warning: You cannot pretend this arrangement won’t affect your life at Ravenwood.By six in the morning, she had stopped trying to sleep and started making a list.The first page recorded what had happened: the date, the time Marcel arrived, the words he used, and the fact that he had said no one would force her into a car that night. Beneath it, she copied the messages about eight o’clock and the car that would collect her. She saved the call details and sent copies to an email account her family did not know about.A soft knock came at her door.“Lily?” Daniel asked. “Mum’s making tea. Dad wants to talk.”“Does he want to tell me the truth this time?”Daniel did not answer immediately. “He says he’ll explain what he can.”“That means he’ll explain what makes him look least guilty.”She heard her brother sigh through the door. “I know you’re angry.”“I’m not only angry.” She opened the d

The car stopped outside just as Lily’s father lowered his phone.For one suspended moment, nobody moved. Headlights washed across the sitting room before fading. A door slammed outside.Her father straightened his shirt. “He’s here.”Lily kept her chin lifted. “Then he can explain why he thinks he has the right to decide my future.”Her mother stood near the doorway, twisting her fingers together and looking away whenever Lily met her gaze.A knock sounded.Her father hurried to answer it. Lily stayed where she was, refusing to let fear carry her to the door. Daniel shifted closer, a quiet show of support that made her throat ache.Marcel Richardson Bonaparte entered in a dark tailored suit, his expression composed. His eyes moved from Lily’s father to the papers, then settled on Lily.“So,” he said, “you’re the one refusing to cooperate.”“I asked for legal advice.”“You refused to come when my representatives explained the arrangement.”“They explained what your family wants. That

The handwritten note lay between Lily and the two men at the door. Its meaning was plain enough; the confidence behind it was what unsettled her. Marcel Richardson Bonaparte had made a decision about her before they had ever met.Lily pushed the paper back across the table. “You can tell him I’m not going.”The taller representative closed his folder. “Miss Hopkin, we’re here to explain the arrangements, not argue about them.”“Then explain why a man I’ve never met thinks he can summon me.”Her father hovered beside the dining chair, pale and tense. “Lily, please. Don’t make this worse.”She turned on him. “Worse for whom? You signed the agreement. You knew they planned to come tonight. You had three weeks to tell me.”His eyes dropped to the floor. The silence felt like another signature.“I want an independent solicitor,” Lily said. “I want a copy of every page, including whatever terms you claim apply to me. Until someone explains my rights, I’m not going anywhere.”“The settlemen

Lily stared at the document as if the crest might rearrange itself into something less terrible.The Richardson emblem sat at the top of the page: a silver crown above a black shield, its sharp lines pressed into thick cream paper. Beneath it, her full name had been typed beside a number so large she read it twice before understanding it.“What is this?” she asked.Her father stood on the other side of the dining table, refusing to meet her eyes. Her mother remained beside the kitchen doorway, twisting a dish towel between her hands.“It’s a settlement,” her father said.“A settlement for what?”“The debt.”Lily let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You said the bank had extended the deadline. You said you were handling it.”“We were trying to protect you,” her mother whispered.“From what? The truth?”The question struck harder than Lily intended. Her mother flinched, and that small movement frightened her more than a shout would have.For years, Lily had defended her parents whenev