When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 1963

Chapter 1963 A Roof Over His Head
“Now that you're awake, get out,” she snapped.

Pain radiated through Magnus' limbs at the mere thought of moving. Leave? To what? The streets? The cold?

“What's your name?” Magnus asked, deliberately ignoring her dismissal.

The woman sighed. “Denise Laney.”

Denise?

“I'm Magnus,” he replied. “Just so you know, my family has money. More than enough. Shelter me now, and I'll repay you generously when I return home.”

The truth was, leaving meant certain danger. His enemies were still hunting for him, and going back wasn't an option - not yet.

“Oh? Then you should go home. I don't need you to repay me,” Denise said dryly.

Her tone made it clear she didn't believe him. What wealthy man would be lying battered in my attic?

Magnus clenched his jaw. Without his wallet or contacts, he had no way to prove his claims. “I'm still unwell,” he said instead, voice tight. “A few more days, that's all I ask.”

The loft might be cramped and dingy, but compared to the deadly streets outside, it was paradise.

“No way!” Denise snapped without hesitation. The clatter of her cooking spoon against the pot punctuated her refusal as she stirred the pasta.

“You'll leave after breakfast,” she said flatly. “I've got a part-time job to get to.”

Every weekend minute was precious - between researching her parents' treatment and her 10 AM flyer-distributing gig, she couldn't afford delays.

The pasta finished quickly. When Denise opened the fridge, a single egg stared back at her. She hesitated, fingers tapping against the door, before finally cracking it into the pan. The scrambled egg went on Magnus's plate alone.

“Eat,” she said, pushing his serving forward.

Magnus eyed the bland pasta, nose wrinkling. “Just... pasta?”

“Obviously.” Denise rolled her eyes, thinking he was just a spoiled brat who didn't know hunger. “Not hungry? I'll take it—”

“I'll eat it!” Magnus quickly said.

Having food now was certainly better than starving—Magnus couldn't afford to be picky.

For the first time in his life, he found himself craving something as simple as scrambled eggs.

“Are you sure there aren't any more eggs?” he asked.

“There aren't,” she replied flatly.

Magnus rose and headed to the refrigerator.

What he saw made him pause. The fridge was nearly bare, with just a single packet of pasta sitting on an otherwise empty shelf.

“You eat pasta and eggs every day? Don't you like meat?” he asked, baffled.

Denise looked up, already exasperated. She bit back the sigh rising in her chest. Does he seriously not understand what being poor means?

“I can't afford to buy meat,” she said plainly.

Magnus frowned. “What about your money? Didn't your parents give you any? Or your relatives? Don't you have siblings?”