A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

The stinging words slapped Matilda across the face, leaving her ashen as she watched Yvan and Carl exit the building. She sat in the lobby, lost in a daze, before eventually drifting back to her desk in the studio.

Her colleagues quickly noticed her off–kilter demeanor and gathered around with concern. “What’s wrong? Did you have a spat with the client?”

“I told you that client seemed high–maintenance; should’ve sent one of the guys. Look, they’ve gone and scared our goddess!” Yoshi brewed a comforting cup of coffee for Matilda. She muttered a small thank you, and as the warm brew trickled down, it brought a semblance of calm.

Orson, busy with his coloring work, glanced at Matilda’s slumped figure and said after a long silence, “You know Yvan?”

Matilda’s face tensed, and then she quickly turned away, “No… I don’t know him.”

“Your face tells a different story, like there’s history there,” Orson smirked cryptically. “You sure there’s nothing between you two?”

Her face turned a shade paler as she quickly denied it, “No. Impossible. If I had anything to do with him, I wouldn’t be working here now.”

“Fair point,” Orson said with a loaded tone, looking at her knowingly. “Seems he’s not a fan of your charms. I thought a beauty like you could’ve at least won us some funding.”

Matilda gave a wry smile. Yvan had never spared her a shred of affection. And her own affection had been worn away with the years of waiting.

At lunch, the mood was noticeably somber. Matilda’s spirits were down, likely due to the failed investment pitch for the studio.

Concerned she might be feeling too pressured, Baxter sat beside her with a dish of barbecued ribs. “Stop worrying about it. No one’s blaming you.”

Matilda sighed. “Would he sponsor you if I left?”

Did he despise every place she existed? Was he targeting her on purpose?

“Why would you say that out of the blue?” Baxter was taken aback. “Don’t quit over this; it’s not worth it.”

“Hey, goddess, don’t take it to heart,” Yoshi chimed in, bringing over a plate of grilled sausages. “Fancy a bite? They’re delicious.”

Looking at her friendly colleagues, Matilda could only offer a smile tinged with regret. If it hadn’t been her facing Yvan today, perhaps he wouldn’t have rejected them so coldly and decisively.

It seemed he was everywhere, determined to beat her at every turn.

That night, Matilda thought long and hard about not dragging this out any further. Perhaps joining this studio had been a mistake.

The next day, she didn’t show up for work, opting to sit at home and reflect instead.

How could she escape Yvan’s blacklist?

Then, the doorbell rang. Opening the door, she saw Orson standing there, looking every bit the well– traveled trust fund kid in his thick hoodie and sporty watch. When he saw her, he grabbed her with oneThis text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

large hand and pulled her outside.

Matilda was startled. “How did you know where I live?”

“It’s on your records.”

Orson clicked his tongue impatiently. “Why didn’t you come to work?”

“I…” Matilda’s words died in her throat. “I’ve been thinking… maybe I’m not really cut

out for…”

Orson, gripping her shoulder, marched into her apartment, then pulled out a chair at the dining table as if he owned the place. His gaze was piercing as he looked at her. “This neighborhood costs a pretty penny per square foot. Anyone who can afford to live here, why would they work at our company? You’re telling me you have nothing to do with Yvan? I don’t buy it.”

He always spoke so bluntly, with no regard for Matilda’s feelings.

This man, apart from his face resembling Gideon’s, had none of Gideon’s tenderness.

Matilda must be unwell, she thought. The pain of losing Gideon was too much, causing her to see Orson, this cold and heartless man, as her brother again and again.