A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

12:38

Matilda felt like her depression was sinking its claws deeper into her, and Yvan’s reappearance was knocking her for six.

Prostrate on the couch with a throbbing headache, her work wasn’t making any headway, and her son was not with her. She felt like a total failure, now laid up with a fever, clueless about what to do next.

Then, out of the blue, her phone rang.

She glanced at the display: an unknown number. With a sigh of indifference, she answered. But the voice on the other end was familiar.

It was Willow.

In a voice that was cool and to the point, Willow said, “Head over to Fusion. I’ve got a business proposal for you.”

Matilda was puzzled. What game was this heiress playing now?

In Matilda’s eyes, Willow was lucky to have been coddled by her family for so long, especially considering her Simpson family’s own scandal she vaguely remembered before her stint in prison.

Somehow, that fiasco had been smoothed over, and soon after, the news of Matilda’s incarceration eclipsed the Simpson family’s troubles. Five years in jail, with a shattered heart, had left her still feeling half–dead on the outside.

Matilda snorted at the memory, then heard Willow continue, “I know you see me as a rival, and truth be told, you’re still competing for my affections. But, frankly, compared to that piece of work, Evie, I’d rather deal with you.”

Matilda remained silent, and the line went dead. After stewing in silence for twenty minutes, she got up, showered, applied makeup, picked out a sharp outfit, spritzed some perfume, and, instead of driving, hailed a cab.

An hour later, as Willow sneezed in the chilly air, Matilda approached.”

The wind bit as Matilda walked up, draped in a stylish shawl, her long legs showcased by a leather skirt, feet clad in black boots. A blowout and curling iron had teased her hair into loose waves, tossed to one side to reveal the delicate curve of her neck.

Matilda’s beauty was undeniable, but it wasn’t just her looks that made people stop and stare; it was her cool, detached aura.

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She moved as if she could pass through a garden without disturbing a single petal, her presence like a fleeting silhouette, ready to vanish with the wind.

Seeing Matilda now, Willow thought she possessed a morbid allure, like someone on the brink of death yet radiating a final, stunning burst of life. Her eyes were deep and desperate, like parched earth, lifeless yet piercingly cold.

It was Yvan who had reduced her to this state.

As Matilda approached, Willow noted her nasal voice and frowned, “Caught a cold?”

Matilda said nothing.

With a sneer, Willow said, “Don’t expect any sympathy from me. I’ve just come to realize that Yvan isn’t worth our sacrifices.”

“So you’re looking for an ally to lean on?”

Matilda’s tone was even and calm. “But I’ll pass on being your friend, and I don’t need your flattery.”

Stunned, Willow stared at Matilda incredulously, her voice rising, “How can you be so ungrateful, Matilda?”

With a light laugh, Matilda replied, “Only realizing that now?”

Through gritted teeth, Willow spat, “Don’t get too smug! I’m here because someone asked me to meet with you…”