A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

When Matilda awoke the next day, she readied herself for a visit to Yvan’s corporate fortress. She applied a touch of makeup, donned a lightweight trench coat, and stepped into her heels before heading out.

As she stepped outside, her phone buzzed with a call from Gideon. “Is Logan really with him? Sis, are you sure you’re okay on your own?”

Taking a deep breath as the breeze tousled her hair, Matilda reassured him, “I’m fine, bro. Don’t worry– I’ll call you if anything comes up. Focus on your business trip.”

After a litany of brotherly cautions, Gideon finally hung up.

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Matilda lifted the bustling street, determination etched in her eyes, and hailed a cab to the Boyd Group.

Once there, she paid the fare and stepped out into the throng of morning commuters. Her arrival didn’t go unnoticed; heads turned to take in her slender figure swathed in the billowing trench coat, which caught the morning light and framed her with a golden aura.

The woman who strode through the front doors had a striking face, especially her eyes–sharp as tempered steel, fierce and cold. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her pale face carried a mix of tension and chill as she quickly approached the reception.

The receptionist was

stammer, “Can I helpmentarily stunned by the commanding presence but managed toCcontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

stammer, “Can I help you? Who are you here to see?”

“Yvan.”

Matilda didn’t hesitate to say the name that everyone else referred to with such reverence.

The receptionist blinked. “But ma’am, to see Mr. Boyd, you’ll need an appointment…”

Their exchange had already sparked whispers behind Matilda.

“Is she here for Mr. Boyd?”

“Shh, keep it down. The way she’s walking–she’s got to have connections!”

“Absolutely! Maybe she’s Mr. Boyd’s secret flame.”

“Mr. Boyd’s secret flame? But isn’t Rachel Archer the apple of his eye?”

The mention of Rachel Archer cut through Matilda like a knife, but she managed a smile so jarring it could haunt a ghost. “Just o

him my name. Yvan will see me.”

Before the receptionist could inquire further about the confident visitor, a familiar voice came from behind.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

Matilda turned to see Chase, the one who had greeted her from his Maserati days ago,

12:05

sauntering in with a knowing smile and eyes that shimmered with mischief.

*Looking for Yvan, huh?” he said, greeting her.

Seeing that even Mr. Chase Johnson from the neighboring city knew this lady, the receptionist quickly waved her through. The onlookers were astounded. Who was this woman that even Mr. Johnson recognized?

Inside the elevator, Matilda offered Chase a terse “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” Chase replied with a grin, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m also here to

see him about some business, but you go ahead. Besides, the Thomson family has shares

here; stepping into your own company isn’t crossing any lines.”

“You seem to have done your homework on me,” Matilda said, voice laced with sarcasm, though it was unclear whether it was directed at Chase or herself. “Too bad it’s not mine

anymore.

Chase glanced at Matilda and ventured, “Five years ago when you went to prison… was it really Yvan who put you behind bars?”

Matilda didn’t respond, offering only a faint smile in return.

And yet, that smile was a painful one, like someone who has fallen into an abyss and can’t see even a sliver of hope.