"Useless?"

I laugh lightly.

"Yeah, pretty much."

Matteo is silent for a moment.

"Well," he says, voice darkening slightly, "good thing I’ve been doing some digging of my own."

My stomach dips.

"Matteo..."

"I told you I wouldn’t let him get away with this," he sayssimply.

There's something about the calm certainty in his voice that makes me nervous.

"What did you do?"

"Just made a few calls." He pauses. "People know Chapman here, Daphne.Actuallyknow him. And his reputation isn’t as spotless as he’d like you to think."

I chew the inside of my cheek, torn between gratitude and anxiety.

Matteo clearly has far more connections than I'd realised.

"I don't know if this is the best idea," I say slowly. "What if this backfires? What if Mark hears you’re digging around and twists it to make me look bad?"

Matteo is quiet for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. Steadier.

"Do you trust me?"

The question lands in the centre of my chest.

Do I?

I glance around my apartment, at the pizza box sitting on the kitchen counter that I’d pulled out from the fridge, the one he’d brought with him last night. I can still smell his aftershave on the pillow beside me and recall the way he held me close when I broke down.

And there’s no doubt about it - I absolutely remember the way he looked at me when he promised to fix this.

My throat tightens as I swallow.

"Yeah," I say softly. "I do."

"Good," Matteo breathes. "Then let me handle this. You don't need to do everything on your own all the time."

The simplicity of that statement makes me close my eyes for a moment.

I've always prided myself on being independent. On handling my own problems without asking for help.

But Matteo's right. I'm exhausted from fighting this battle alone.

"Okay," I whisper.

"That's my girl," he murmurs.

I can hear the smile in his voice, and my heart practically skips at his praise.

"Now, go do something nice for yourself. Go for a walk. Get some lunch. Eat more ice cream if you want. Just… breathe for a bit, okay?"