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Chapter 95
Matilda stormed out of the diner and flagged down a cab, heading straight home. She hadn’t expected to be interrupted by Yvan when she’d barely settled in to focus on her design drafts. The last unpleasant encounter with him was still fresh in her mind; she instinctively moved to shut the door on his face. But this time, Yvan didn’t make any other move. He just stood there, smirking coldly, “Go ahead, slam the door. If you don’t care about your son burning up with a fever, that’s your choice.”
Her hand froze mid–motion as the words sunk in. She whipped around, clutching at Yvan’s shirt and shouted, “What’s happened to Logan?!”
Twenty minutes later, Matilda was at Logan’s bedside. His cheeks were flushed, he was panting with feverish breaths, and he looked incredibly weak.
Matilda sat by the bed, her hand brushing Logan’s forehead, feeling the heat radiating from him. She hurriedly rifled through the medicine stored at the house, and helped Logan sit up before dashing downstairs to fetch a glass of water – every detail of the Boyd Mansion was second nature to her, every memory still vivid.
Climbing back upstairs with the glass, she found Logan had woken up. He weakly called out. “Mommy.”
As Matilda heard Logan’s voice, her heart melted. She helped him take his medicine and asked, “How come you get a fever, sweetheart? I’ll take you to the hospital, okay?”
“The doctor will be here soon; no need for the hospital,” Yvan’s voice cut in coldly from the doorway.
Logan’s eyes flickered away when they met Yvan’s, and the little boy shrank into the covers, gripping Matilda’s hand – a clear plea for comfort.
Matilda stroked his face, and then turned to Yvan. “Why are you scowling at him like that? You are his dad. Don’t you know that’s scary for a child?”
“Scary for him?” Yvan’s eyes narrowed as he let out a derisive laugh, “Does he even acknowledge me as his dad? Why don’t you ask him that?”
“If he doesn’t accept you, have you ever considered it might be your fault?” Matilda couldn’t hold back her anger and raised her voice, “Yvan, stop blaming others for everything. Or do you really think you’re faultless?”
Yvan’s laugh was utterly attractive, yet his eyes were chilling, a waste of his handsome features, “I’ve given him the best of everything at the Boyd Mansion, and Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org
all he gives me is attitude and dirty looks. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s my blood, I wouldn’t even acknowledge him as my son!”
His words were harsh, but he couldn’t help feeling enraged every time he saw. Logan’s face. He didn’t understand why – perhaps it was the frustration of being a father to a child who only looked at him with fear and distance.
“Yeah, it’s all our fault. I should never have had him!” Matilda’s voice cracked with tears. “You’re always right, sitting on your high horse! If you despise him so much, why not let me take him away? We don’t care for the Boyd family’s fortune one bit. I’ll take him, and even if we die, we won’t die in front of you!”
“Matilda!” Yvan’s voice shot up in volume. “Don’t provoke me with that kind of talk. If you’re so keen on dying, why not show me?”
With that, a sharp pain shot through Matilda’s core, spreading from deep within. She murmured to herself. “Alright. Yvan. Just remember this day and pray you don’t live
to regret it.”