A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

“Apologize?”

Matilda’s voice trembled with fury. “Didn’t you see Logan’s hurt? Yvan, he’s your son, too!”

“What, you think playing the family card will get you off the hook?” Yvan scoffed, shrugging off Matilda with a swift motion.

Logan looked up at his father, his disappointment so palpable it sent a shiver down Yvan’s spine.

The little boy didn’t say a word, nor did he try to defend himself. It was as if he was giving his father the silent treatment.

Yvan narrowed his handsome eyes, a pity that they held no warmth. “Do you admit you were wrong?”

“Admit what?” Matilda got up from the floor and lunged forward again, shielding Yvan’s view with her body. “He’s just five years old! Even if you hate me, you can’t take it out on our child! What could he possibly have done at his age?”

“He’s five, and he looks at me like that!” Yvan roared. “Do you have any idea how infuriating it is to come home every day to those eyes? At five years old, he’s already a master of backhanded compliments and passive aggression. Matilda, he’s truly your son–what can’t he do?!”

Logan flinched violently, then looked up at Yvan, who laughed bitterly. “See, that’s the look I’m talking about. Like a little wolf cub, a goddamn Judas goat!”

Matilda turned to Logan and touched his face gently, whispering, “Don’t be scared, baby, Mommy’s here.”

Logan finally closed his eyes, tears tracing the contours of his cheeks.

Matilda’s heart ached as she saw the string of blisters from a burn on Logan’s arm. Without treatment, it would scar. She stood up, disregarding everything else, and demanded of Yvan, “Where’s the doctor from earlier?”

“That’s my private physician. You think you’re entitled to summon him?” Yvan pointed at Logan. “He apologizes first!”

“Apologize?” Tears filling her eyes, Matilda took a few steps back and repeated the word as if it were a mantra.

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Her eyes reddened with laughter, and she turned to Evie. “Yvan, you want an apology, fine! I’ll give it. Logan’s too young to understand, so as his mother, I apologize to you! Miss, I’m so sorry for the trouble. Please, be generous and forgive us.”

Humble and defeated, Matilda finished her apology and turned to Yvan. “Is this like five years ago? Do you want me to kneel and bow my head to her?”

A sharp pain clenched Yvan’s heart as he watched Matilda, his fingers starting to tremble uncontrollably.

For some reason, it felt like something was slipping through the gaps in his fingers, something he couldn’t grasp, and it was sliding away from him.

Matilda carried Logan upstairs, leaving Evie and Yvan standing in the living room.

As the little boy was lifted, he rested his head on her shoulder. Climbing the stairs, he glared at Yvan and Evie with a look a hundred times more ferocious than before.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze was a mirror of Yvan’s own rage. Like father, like son–when they hated someone, their expressions were identical. This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

Yvan watched Matilda’s retreating figure ascend the stairs. Silent for a long time, he finally lowered his voice and said to Evie, “Get out.”

“Mr. Boyd— Evie, clutching her burn, began to weep. “Mr. Boyd, it hurts…”

“Did you not hear me? I said, get the hell out!” Yvan’s cold expression didn’t soften as he summoned the servants to escort Evie out despite her frantic struggles.

“What are you doing? Let me go! Mr. Boyd, Mr. Boyd!”

The mansion’s grand door closed in front of her, shutting out all hope.