A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

Criss guided Matilda to their room for some rest, the twin beds neatly made.

Matilda perched on one, taking deep, steadying breaths.

Seeing her like this, Criss heaved a sigh, grabbed the kettle to boil some water for tea, and asked while filling it, “Sweetie, you gotta tell me who he is already, right?”

Matilda offered a resigned smile. “He’s my ex–husband.”

“Oh my God!”

Criss‘ hand trembled, nearly dropping the kettle. “Then I don’t wanna sleep with him.”

Matilda’s voice pitched up in disbelief. “You wanted to sleep with my ex–husband?”

Criss stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well, he doesn’t look like the submissive type. I bet if we hit the sack, we’d end up wrestling.”

Matilda raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay, Lord Criss, I admit my fault. I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I’ll be upfront next time.”

“Hmph.” Criss lost his usual air of poised aloofness, sat beside Matilda after setting up the kettle, and said, “Honey, you gotta figure something out. You can’t keep dodging him forever. The event planners were talking him up big time. How did you guys even get together back in the day?” Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“It just happened.”

Prodded by Criss‘ question, memories came flooding back. Matilda chuckled

self–deprecatingly, shook her head to dispel those thoughts, and then said, “There’s nothing much to tell; it’s all in the past, dear Mr. Curiosity.”

“Alright then, my sweet little secret keeper is keeping things from me now.” Criss feigned injury with a sigh. “Seems like we can’t continue being besties.”

Matilda looked up at the renowned creative director, who smiled down at her, “Looks like we’re

rivals in love now.”

Matilda couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ahead, try your luck. If you can turn Yvan gay, you’re welcome to my troubles.”

“Boring.”

Criss rolled his eyes and gazed out the floor–to–ceiling window at the crowd below. People were mingling, clinking glasses, the socialite dance of ambiguity–everyone hunting, everyone climbing, all with a shared aim: ascend the ladder.

“Your ex is quite the catch.”

Criss observed Yvan in the crowd, his tall, distinguished figure and his aloof, handsome face

drawing the attention of many socialites. Yet, Yvan remained unimpressed, as if no woman there could plque his interest.

“Oh darling, with the way he’s giving the cold shoulder to those ladies, you’d think he played for the same team as us.”

Criss poured a cup for Matilda and carefully fetched her medication.

After taking her medicine with the water, Matilda remarked sarcastically, “Him? Impossible. Women are the least of his shortages.”

Yvan, the perennial ladies‘ man–how could he be waiting for anyone?

Meanwhile, among the crowd, Yvan received a voice message from one of his people: “Mr. Boyd, we’ve located the hotel room where Matilda and Criss are staying. It’s the most expensive suite in the hotel, top floor, room 2101…”

“Got it,” Yvan replied coolly, then inquired, “How long have they been in there?”

“Based on our surveillance, they’ve been inside for over half an hour and haven’t come out yet.”

Over half an hour… Matilda and Criss alone in a room, and still no sign of them?

Yvan’s brow furrowed unexpectedly at the realization that he was so concerned about a woman. He calmed the irritation in his heart, took a deep breath, and instructed, “Keep watching and report back to me with any updates.”