A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

Staring into the face before him, Yvan suddenly felt as if he were looking at a stranger. Would the Matilda he knew five years ago have ever glared at him with such eyes?

Impossible. Five years ago, she was head over heels in love with him, utterly and completely.

Matilda noticed Yvan’s stunned silence and, with a burst of strength from who knew where, shoved the man hard. Without a second thought, she raised her hand and delivered a stinging slap across Yvan’s cheek!

The slap shocked Yvan quite much. Had he just been slapped by a woman? And damn it, one he’d cast aside after having his way!

Yvan reached out to grab Matilda’s wrist, pinning her down, but she didn’t panic. Her eyes were red with fury as she locked her gaze on him and let out a bitter laugh, “Yvan, cut the crap with your high and mighty talk! You owe me so much; this slap is

the least of it!”

In his rage, Yvan’s grip tightened around Matilda’s throat, but she just laughed wildly, as if betting everything on this one moment, “Go on, kill me! Yvan! If you’ve got the guts, just finish me off! Better off dead; it would be a relief to be free of the pain you’ve caused me!”

Her words echoed “better off dead” in his mind, sending a violent tremor through his body, and he suddenly released her.

That phrase unwittingly struck at the most tender part of his heart. Five years ago, Rachel died and now, Matilda seemed to have lost the will to live too.

Who was behind all this misery? Who?! Yvan’s fist crashed next to Matilda’s face, the force of it hitting the wall with a thud that seemed to carry all his turmoil.

Matilda’s eyelashes fluttered, but she never once pleaded for mercy. After a long silence, it was Yvan who spoke in a hoarse voice, “Just go. And don’t you ever show your face around me again!”

Matilda’s laugh was laced with tears, “Give me back my son, and I’ll be more than glad to stay away from you!” Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

Yvan’s fierce gaze bore into her as if trying to see through her charade, but Matilda’s facade was too strong, a thousand times stronger than she’d been five years ago. What had enabled her to traverse the long, dark period and emerge with a heart of

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steel?

Yvan remained silent, his handsome features as striking as ever, possessing the kind of devilish allure that could drive women wild, yet incapable of moving the woman before him now.

With a derisive chuckle, Matilda shook off Yvan’s grip and walked down the hallway. Her voice was detached as she said, “Logan’s still in his room. I don’t want him to see us like this.”

Her figure was slender, and even as she spoke, there was an undeniable toughness about her, a sense that nothing could shake her anymore. Once, she had watched Yvan walk away; now, it seemed that it was Yvan’s turn to watch her leave.

As Matilda reached the grand front door of the Boyd Mansion, her steps faltered. She paused, turning to look back at Yvan with half her face, whispering, “Yvan, from the day we met, to our wedding, to the subsequent years of imprisonment, it’s been fifteen years. How many sets of fifteen years does a person have to waste?”

She’d already wasted fifteen years on him.

Those words made Yvan’s body jolt. He slightly lifted his head, and his enigmatic face with deep–set eyes seemed to flicker with emotion for a moment before settling into a void of nothingness.

Matilda opened the door, and the cold autumn air hit her full in the face. She stepped into the chill, her frailty apparent, her eyelashes trembling as if chilled to the core. But she made no sound.

Five years had tempered her fire and impulsiveness. She was no longer the Matilda of five years ago.