Matthew Davis Writer Novels & Stories

The disinfectant burned sharply against the raw skin, but I didn’t even breathe through my teeth. Physical discomfort was meaningless noise. I wrapped the wound neatly and moved to my desk. The laptop screen flared to life in the underground gloom, running a secure, untraceable network. I typed the name. Matt Davis. His picture loaded instantly. Sharp features, a hint of silver at his temples, and that practiced, reassuring smile. The kind of man people inherently trust. CEO of the Davis Empire. Construction, tech, energy—his reach covered the whole city.

"They aren't. I wish they had a good reason for that, too. But really, they are just assholes with very specific expectations of everyone around them. And if you don't fit into a certain box, then they basically write you off. I learned long ago it was best to not care." Without saying a word, because there's really nothing to say, I lean forward and kiss his cheek then hold his beautiful face so he's looking at me when I say the words I feel like he needs to see. "For what it's worth, they're really missing out because you, Rex whatever your last name is that I just realized I should probably know, are fucking awesome and they don't deserve to have a son like you if they don't appreciate ho

Damon. I hated how easy it was to imagine his face—the steel of his jaw, the way his eyes could cut me down to dust, or soften just enough to trick me into believing there was something underneath all that ice. More than once, I had written to Matthew. Just short emails—carefully worded questions slipped into ordinary exchanges, as if I wasn’t desperate for more. How is he? --I typed once, my fingers hovering before pressing send, my tone disguised as casual. The reply came hours later. Polite. Careful.

"Son, please, leave that woman. You don't deserve this. I can't imagine my precious son will be forever bound with that family. They will just forever mock us, look down on us! There's a lot of women in the sea, Matthew!" Matthew's heart ached. His mother's words struck a chord within him, resonating with his own doubts and frustrations. He knew that being entangled with the Davis family was far from ideal, but his feelings for Brittany were genuine, and he couldn't easily dismiss them. "Mom, I know what Mrs. Davis did to you and to dad. But Brittany isn't like her mother," he tried to reason.

she lifted her shoulders and had a little grin forming on her face. I felt sick again. So, David lied about that, too. He’s lied about his entire background to me, about his work relationships, his family, and he never mentioned anything about Isabella and him after he saw her and me together on the elevator, was there anything honest about him? Matthew was a sick person, but at least he was honest and open with me about who he is. It took some serious prying and patience, but he eventually opened up. Maybe it’ll just take David some time to come clean as well.

he narrated. "At the time, your father was also on to the Davis family," Martin informed him. "He had met Ms Josephine at a grocery shop and liked her. This was when he started learning about the Davis family deals and he targeted them. He wanted to expose them. He went into their mist proposing a business idea which they bought into. He married Josephine and kept his associations with them a secret. Mrs Davis found out about his plans when her son mysteriously went missing while working with Mathew Moore. She quickly discovered that Mathew Moore was having them picked up one after the other. He teamed up with Devon and had Mathew killed," he narrated. "Mr Devon Moore being a double-crosser

I flicked my chin at Alex. He only smirked, unfazed. Like he had all the time in the world. “And don’t you have cases to win?” I motioned at Matthew, I snatched the towel from the bench, dragging it across my face, trying to wipe away more than sweat. Matthew didn’t flinch. “Talking about cases—that’s exactly why I’m here. And I don’t give a damn about your little crash-out.” Typical Matthew Davenport. Always blunt. Always too sharp.

Davis asked, deciding to trust her words but insensitive to her emotions. “Well. Uhm, I have a lot of bad things. Ever single day of my life after I left you, convincing you to marry that innocent girl off to a monster, I have since then always think about my wrongs. All the things have done that is not fair and I wouldn’t imagine someone doing to me, because I won’t be able to take it. I wanted to make it up, but I don’t know how. I don’t know where he kept your wife, I don’t anything about his plan since I completed my part in it…” Davis was getting bored with the redemption speech, she wanted help and while he is still thinking she deserves it, the best is for her to talk about the help o

“Because I couldn’t risk exposing her. If it got out… everything would fall apart.” Davis stayed quiet for a moment. Then— “It does make me uncomfortable,” he admitted. “Talking about him.” She nodded. “I can see that now.” “I love my mum,” he continued. “And I protect her peace. From people like him.” Chelsea didn’t argue. “I understand.” That softened him. Davis reached across the mahogany desk, his large hand covering hers. The warmth of the contact sent a jolt through both of them. "I’m sorry about your mother, Chelsea. I truly hope she gets better."

David waited for me outside. “Is it over?” “It’s over.” He took my hand. “Let’s go home.” The sunlight was warm, falling on us. Our fingers intertwined, just as they should have five years ago. “David.” “Hmm?” “Thank you for waiting for me.” “You fool.” He pinched my cheek. “Waiting for you was the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.” A year later. I received the news: Matthew had taken his own life in prison. He left a note— [I’m sorry, Ava.]