A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

Alone witness might be mistaken, two could be bought off, but with so many eyes on the scene, the thought of bribery became absurd. If even one person remained

unbought, the story would crumble.

But when every witness told the same tale, it was a sign that no one had been deceived. Otherwise, someone had gone to incredible lengths to buy the silence of every soul in the mall!

The mall was bustling that day, and to keep such a scheme airtight, one would need a photographic memory to recall every face, coupled with the clout to dig up every detail about every person that walked through those doors.

But even now, neither he nor Yvan could pull off such a feat. The idea that they could buy off a crowded mall was as likely as a snowball’s chance in hell.

So, there was only one possibility – they really did see Matilda push her.

Mason shook his head, as if trying to convince someone. “It can’t be. How could this happen?”

A storm of emotions flickered through Yvan’s eyes before being swallowed up by the deep pools of his pupils.

It seemed the truth had come full circle. Five years later, digging up the past was as tough as scaling the heavens!

Mason and Yvan wrapped up their conversation at the stroke of midnight, bidding. farewell outside Tiger Pub before going their separate ways. Little did they know, their every move was being shadowed by a mysterious figure.

“Miss. I saw Mr. Boyd and Mr. Farrell leave.”

“Excellent.” In the shroud of night, the woman’s lips arched upwards, her breath mingling with the wisps of smoke, and then she laughed alluringly, “Seems like someone’s getting restless. When you cut the grass, you have to dig up the roots. Matilda, don’t blame me for being cruel.”

Yvan pushed open his front door just past midnight. As he ascended the stairs, he passed Logan’s bedroom, and at the thought of this brat’s distant gaze, he pushed the door open on a whim to steal a glance.

But what he saw took him by surprise. Matilda hadn’t left. There she was, dozing off

at Logan’s bedside, mother and son, a serene and beautiful picture of vulnerability. Logan, in his slumber, showed no hint of the day’s defiance.

Yvan stood, transfixed at the doorway, before snapping back to reality and retreating to his own room, frustration etching his brow.

As he showered, the image lingered – Matilda staying the night at the Boyd Mansion, albeit accidentally. The man looked down silently; his lashes, heavy with water, cast shadows on his chiseled features.

Under the shower head, the man his face exquisite, his body as sensuous as that of a supermodel’s, hunched over, revealing one of the sturdy dorsal muscles. Water droplets traced the outline of his taut body, cascading down his narrow waist and slender legs, then shattering against the floor.

Yvan was wrapped in steam, his thoughts seemingly wandering elsewhere, the hot water coursing bver him, unheeded.

As he stepped out of the shower, his body still misted with droplets. He opened his wardrobe; his gaze paused on a blanket tucked away in the corner. This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

Logan’s bedroom door cracked open again, and a tall silhouette approached, draping the blanket stealthily over Matilda.

After that the figure retreated swiftly, as if fleeing a crime scene, the door closing behind, severing the last sliver of light from the room.

The night stretched on, silent and profound.