A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

Yvan’s face darkened in an instant while Matilda clutched her chest, laughing at her own

absurdity.

“Yvan, you can’t begin to comprehend the agony I’ve been through; you wouldn’t even try. If you could understand even a fraction of my pain, you wouldn’t have driven me to this!”

With a turn of her heel, Matilda made to move on, but Yvan caught a glimpse of his men rolling up in their car and shouted, “Freeze!”

Just as Matilda’s foot poised to bolt, the man’s voice sliced through the wind and into her ears like a knife, cleaving her in two!

“Don’t let her get away! Catch her!”

Startled, Matilda looked up to find herself surrounded by black SUVs. She stumbled back. realizing there was no escape. When had they… How did they get here?

Again, Yvan’s goons grabbed her, this time stuffing a rag into her mouth to prevent her from biting them or, worse, from biting her own tongue in a desperate act of self–harm.

Trapped, with tears scalding her cheeks, Matilda trembled, feeling herself slipping back into the isolating darkness she’d known all too well. She was hoisted into the vehicle, with men flanking

her on either side.

Yvan tossed the keys to his driver and slid into the passenger seat of the van beside Matilda.

Through her tear–blurred eyes, Matilda saw Yvan’s chiseled features, as cold and cruel as a demon from the deepest pits. He sneered at her. “All this trouble could’ve been avoided if you’d just been obedient from the start.”

He was mocking her vulnerability, her helplessness.

Eyes shut, the rag muffling her cries for help, Matilda could do nothing but let the car carry her ever closer to the Boyd estate.

Twenty minutes later, Matilda was back at the Boyd residence, but this time, Yvan didn’t lock her in some dark room. Instead, he carried her to a bed.

The rag was yanked from her mouth, and she gasped for air. “What the hell do you want from me?”

Desperation tinged her voice.

Yvan looked down, his gaze inadvertently landing on the wound on her leg. At a snap of his fingers, someone brought in a first–aid kit.

“If you can’t fight back, then submit. That’s what smart people do. What do you think you can win against me with just instinct and impulse?”

Indeed, when it came to a hardened heart, she was no match for Yvan.

05:567

Some battles could be fought with passion and impulse, but there were others where even gambling with her life on a death wish wouldn’t be enough to overcome the man before her.

Matilda felt a chill on her leg and involuntarily shivered, her thigh pinned down.

Yvan cleaned her wound with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic, diligently tending to her injuries before securing them with a bandage and adhesive tape.

The tenderness he exhibited now was like a cruel poison pouring down Matilda’s throat. Her eyes reddened. “Playing the good guy now, are you?”

Yvan snorted, meeting her gaze. “I’ve never been the good guy; just unbearable to look at.” Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Matilda’s face smarted under his piercing look. “Yvan, what do I owe you?”

Yvan remained silent.

“I’ve given you everything; I have nothing left. What more do you want from me?”

Still, Yvan said nothing.

With a hopeless laugh, Matilda pleaded, “Let me go, Yvan. If this keeps up, I’m afraid I’ll lose even my life.”