A Journey from Bitterness to Truth (Matilda and Yvan) novel Chapter 265

"Get out of here, I'm not exactly pining for your company."

With those final words, Matilda left, sealing Yvan's fate to an eternity of regrets.

...

When Matilda arrived home, it was Logan who greeted her at the door, clearly another one of Adrian's chauffeuring gigs. The boy's eyes sparkled with pride as he exclaimed, "Mommy, I saw you on TV!"

Matilda smiled as she stepped inside and slipped off her stilettos, steadying herself against Orson. Logan glanced at Orson, who was trailing behind, and asked, "How come Uncle Orson wasn't on TV today?"

"Hmm?" Matilda realized that indeed, Orson hadn't faced the reporters.

Orson simply shrugged off the question, "I'm not one for the spotlight," and left it at that.

Once inside, Logan followed Matilda to her room. After changing into her pajamas and emerging with damp hair, she noticed Orson had dozed off on the couch, his body curled innocently against the cushions.

"Is Uncle Orson really tired?" Logan whispered to Matilda.

She nodded, "Yes, let's not disturb him. How about some chicken noodle soup and then off to bed?"

Logan nodded obediently. After slurping down the warm, comforting soup Matilda had prepared, he went off to bathe and climb into bed. When he emerged, Orson was still asleep on the couch. Matilda, in her pajamas, hesitated before fetching a throw blanket from her room.

With the blanket in hand, she tiptoed over and gently draped it over Orson.

But the simple act of covering him startled Orson awake, his instincts kicking in like a finely tuned machine that snapped to alertness at the slightest touch. He sprang up, gripping Matilda's wrist and pinning her beneath him in one fluid motion.

Underneath Orson's weight, Matilda's soft body made him hesitate, his heart skipping a beat — like missing a step on a staircase.

"Close-quarters combat," he said, not bothering to hide it. Jumping off the couch, he picked up the blanket, draping it over his arm. He then ruffled Matilda's hair, "Better head to bed, I was dead tired."

He sounded completely different from the man who was ready to throw a punch moments ago.

Confused, Matilda watched Orson retreat to his room, his lean but muscular frame hinting at a life shaped by blows and bruises.

Touching her chin, Matilda wondered if Orson's family ran a martial arts studio, perhaps linked to Suntopian?

But she didn't dwell on it. The incident felt like a small interlude as she closed her bedroom door. Only after hearing the door shut did Orson let out a sigh of relief in the next room.

For a long while, he stared at the blanket in his hands, gripping it as if it were a lifeline.

His fingers, subconsciously, tightened their hold.