A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

A week had passed before Yvan laid eyes on Matilda again. It was at a swanky cocktail party. where the city’s who’s who mingled, glasses clinking and laughter echoing off the marble walls.

There she was, arm in arm with a man, draped in a scarlet dress that clung to her like a second skin. Her hair fell in carefree waves, and her lips were a bold, sensuous red. They made an entrance that captured every gaze in the room.

The man by her side was the world–renowned creative director of Noble Blue Brand, Criss. At thirty, with his fine features and a reputation for being a maverick, he was the envy of every bachelor there. Women whispered among themselves, speculating on how Matilda had managed to snag such a catch.

Criss flashed her a smile. “They’re all looking at you.”

“They?” Feigning ignorance, Matilda asked, “Are you referring to someone in particular, Mr. Criss?”

“Smart as ever.” Criss‘ voice dropped to a whisper. “Your ex–husband is watching you.”

As Matilda lifted her gaze, she found Yvan amid the crowd. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment across the sea of partygoers before each calmly looked away.

She thought to herself how much she had come to resemble Yvan. Once upon a time, seeing him would have sent her running. Now, they could pass each other like strangers.

“Yvan, thank you for your repeated betrayals. They’ve forged my heart into steel,” she thought.

That night, Matilda’s presence was unanticipated, yet there was something familiar about her slender silhouette. It seemed to many that they had seen such a face before, years ago–a face that exuded an air of noble grace.

Who was she? Once a wild young thing, her eloquence had dazzled, her red dress swirled, and a single glance could deceive the world.

Five years later, she emerged from her trials, donning that fiery red dress once more, stunning all onlookers!

Criss, clearly pleased, complimented her, “Matilda, you should have come to me sooner.”

“I didn’t dare disturb you, fearing I’d ruin the image you had of me.” Matilda batted her eyelashes playfully. “Good things come to those who wait, right?”

“You do have a way with words.” Criss squinted at Yvan, who was moving through the crowd with an air of cold, aristocratic grace. His chiseled features stood out, and even from a distance, one could sense his formidable presence. Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

“He’s quite the man,” Criss assessed. His validation wasn’t given lightly, so his four–word endorsement spoke volumes of Yvan’s caliber.

10:31

Matilda joked, “Too bad he’s not into men.

Criss, as if in on her thoughts, teased back, “Sleeping with a man like that, you didn’t lose out.”

“Did I not?” Matilda retorted, her high heels clicking with each step that seemed to stamp on the hearts of the men around her. They couldn’t help but follow her with their eyes. The woman held her chin high, her gaze languid yet devoid of mercy. She continued on, arm in arm with Criss, greeting the press with a poised and practiced ease that spoke of countless encounters with the spotlight.

Indeed, she had been there before. Five years earlier, a scandal had erupted, and Matilda had been escorted into a police car as Yvan summoned a horde of journalists to surround her. In that moment of panic and helplessness, the click of cameras sounded like the haunting echoes of a nightmare.

Now, those memories resurfaced, tugging at old wounds that still throbbed with pain.

Yet here she was, five years on, reclaiming the limelight with a smile so fitting for the cameras; one could never guess the turmoil she’d faced in the past.

She had learned her lesson well back then. Even on your knees, under the glare of the spotlight, you must always smile.