A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

After leaving that evening, Matilda couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her stomach. She grabbed her phone and typed out a message to Mason, expressing her regret that their collaboration might be off the table. She also hinted, with a touch of subtlety, that he should stop using Yvan’s name as a means to reach out to her.

The next day, Mason read her message, a wry smile spreading across his face as he dialed Yvan’s number. “Your ex is telling me to mind my own beeswax. What’s our play?”

On the other end. Yvan’s grip on his phone tightened, his chuckle cold as ice.

What was their play?

There was only one thing to do. If Matilda wanted to play hardball, he’d just have to see how long she could hold her ground!

After hanging up, Yvan got his people moving. Soon, a knock came at his office door, and a figure walked in, deferential as ever. “Mr. Boyd, the funds have been transferred to Ms. Thompson’s account…”

“Have you spread the word?” Yvan’s eyes narrowed. “Anyone who dares to work with Matilda is signing their own death warrant.”

“It’s done.” The secretary, the same one from five years back, Carl, hesitated. Despite Yvan having sent money to Matilda, Carl couldn’t help but feel a pang of conscience. He had seen the couple’s rise and fall, and now, when they were finally crossing paths again, it was a showdown.

Choosing his words carefully, he ventured, “Mr. Boyd… this approach with the lady…”

“Lady?” Yvan scoffed. “Watch your words. Matilda is no lady of mine.” Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Carl stood silently, head bowed, yet not humiliated.

Yvan’s gaze turned murky. “Carl, how long have you been my assistant?”

“Five years,” Carl responded with neither subservience nor defiance. His position by yvan’s side, his trust and esteem, had all come on Matilda’s recommendation. Without her, he’d ce nowhere.

“I know you’re grateful to Matilda, but Carl, you work for me now, and she… she’s just an ex–wife.” Yvan arched an eyebrow, his presence alone exerting pressure. “Some thoughts are better left unentertained.”

“I understand.” Carl bowed his head again, his fists clenching the fabric of his pants.

How long would it take to witness a happy ending between Matilda and Yvan? Perhaps it was not meant to be in this lifetime.

What a fine person Ms. Thompson was…

After Carl left. Yvan watched the door close, his heart still in turmoil. He couldn’t stand to see Carl’s pitying glances toward Matilda. Even knowing that Carl wouldn’t dare make a move on her, those looks still stung.

Carl’s efficiency and top–tier skill set made him indispensable, and he had indeed become Yvan’s most trusted aide. Yvan had to admit that Matilda had done him a favor back then.

So, out of respect for Matilda, Carl remained unwaveringly loyal to Yvan. He knew that during the years Matilda was behind bars, Carl had spoken up for her, likely out of a sense of injustice. But why? Why should his subordinates revolve around this woman? Was it solely due to some old debt of gratitude?

Yvan’s fingers curled into a fist unconsciously. He moved to stand by the floor–to–ceiling windows of his office, gazing down over the cityscape. From this vantage point, the city felt. both unchanging and ever–evolving.

He had to admit, in the five years Matilda had been gone, life had been dull, tedious, and desperately lonely.