Without another word, Tristan walked into the bedroom, picked up the black briefcase, and returned to the living room. He placed it on the table in front of the landlord without saying much.
"Count it."
The three women shared a surprised look as if to say; ’oh, he wasn’t bluffing’ then they looked back at the man and the briefcase.
The landlord opened the case and froze for a second when he saw the stacks of cash. His eyes lit up with greed mixed with disbelief. He pulled out a thick bundle and started counting slowly, his lips moving as he went through each note. After a while, he still didn’t look satisfied. He called one of the injured thugs over.
"You. Come count it again."
The thug winced as he stood up, then began recounting the money with slow, careful hands. The process dragged on. Bundle after bundle was checked. The landlord kept glancing at Tristan from the corner of his eye, as if waiting for him to get impatient or make a mistake.
But Tristan simply stood by patiently, looking on, as if he had all time on his hands.
When the counting was finally done, the landlord’s hand tightened around the briefcase. He made a move to close it and take everything.
Then, Tristan’s voice came out cold and clear.
"I know exactly how much is inside that case. Take only what you asked for. Nothing more."
The landlord’s face stiffened. For a moment it looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Tristan’s calm stare made him stop. He reluctantly removed the excess stacks, placed them on the floor, then closed the briefcase with the remaining money, and cleared his throat.
"Fine. I’ve received the payment for what was owed. But I still want my house back. You people have three days to pack out. I won’t keep these notorious women under my roof any longer."
At that, a frown made its way onto Tristan’s face.
"You already received the money. You can’t just decide to throw tenants out without proper notice. I believe there are procedures for eviction." he said.
The landlord let out a short, ugly laugh. "This is my house. I can do whatever I like. Three days. That’s all you get."
Before anyone could say another word, he signaled his men. The thugs struggled to their feet, still holding their injuries, and followed him out of the apartment. The door slammed hard behind them.
The living room fell quiet for only a brief moment. Then all three women stood up at the same time.
Nadia crossed her arms under her full breasts, her red eyes narrowed in pure irritation.
"What exactly was that?" she asked him coldly.
Tristan looked at her, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. "I paid what was owed. Is there a problem?"
Nadia let out a sharp, mocking sound. "Nobody asked you to step in. We were handling that man perfectly fine before you appeared and started acting like some savior. Now you’ve given him the courage to open his mouth and issue deadlines." she hissed.
Talia’s golden eyes flashed as she stepped closer, her thick hair swaying with the movement.
"She’s right. You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. We didn’t need your help. I mean, you aren’t even in any position to help yourself not to talk of anybody."
Tristan’s brows pulled together harder. "Wait, You weren’t planning to pay the rent at all?"
"That’s none of your business," Talia snapped. "We had our own way of dealing with him. Which is perfectly effective, by the way."
"By beating his men and creating more problems?" Tristan asked, his voice still controlled but clearly unimpressed.
Nadia’s expression turned colder. "Why are you even still breathing in this house? Shouldn’t you have disappeared by now and returned our real husband? Or is this body so comfortable that you’ve decided to stay and play house?"
Before Tristan could reply, Cora’s voice cut in from the side. She had been watching him the whole time with sharp, calculating eyes.
"Where did you get that amount of money?"
The question made both Nadia and Talia turn toward her immediately.
"You and your useless questions again. Is that really what matters right now?" Talia growled.
Cora didn’t back down. Her wavy hair shifted as she lifted her chin. "It’s the only question that actually matters. A man who had nothing yesterday suddenly drops that kind of cash without blinking, and the two of you are more concerned about pride than finding out how he did it. Brilliant as always." she let out a dry, mocking chuckle.
Nadia’s eyes flashed dangerously. "Watch your mouth, little witch."
"Or what?" Cora shot back. You’re both so busy being angry that you can’t even think straight. That money didn’t fall from the sky."
"I’m warning you-" Talia started.
"Warn me as long as you wish," Cora cut her off. "It won’t change the fact that neither of you asked the important thing."
Within seconds the three of them were at it again. Their voices rose. Sharp insults flew back and forth. Old racial digs and personal attacks mixed together as the argument quickly heated up. Nadia’s fangs briefly showed. Talia’s hands flexed like she wanted to grab someone. Cora’s tone stayed cutting and superior.
Tristan stood there watching them, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
It was still early morning.
He had barely slept properly, his body still carried the ache from the previous night’s punch, and now he was being forced to listen to the three of them tear into each other again before he had even washed his face.
He hated noise this early. In the palace, mornings had been quiet, ordered, and controlled. This constant chaos grated against every nerve he had left.
Tristan exhaled slowly through his nose, turned around without saying another word, and walked back into the bedroom. He shut the door firmly behind him, cutting off the rising sound of their argument.
He needed a bath.
Even in this strange new life, he refused to stand in front of anyone - especially those three women, without being clean and properly put together.