A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

About Matilda?

Glancing around. Yvan decided to simply scoop up Logan.

The little guy was cradled in his arms as he strode into the executive office.

He plopped Logan down on the desk, arched an eyebrow, and flashed a half–smile at him. “What’s up, kiddo? You need something from your old man?”

Logan met his gaze squarely, cutting to the chase. “Did you, by any chance, order the squeeze on my mom that’s got her cornered?”

Yvan’s face froze, caught off guard by the accusatory tone of his own son. A sting of pain. surged in his chest, deepening his voice involuntarily. “Are you here to read me the riot act?”

“No.” Logan murmured lowly, “just to get some justice for my mom.”

“Justice?” Yvan’s laugh was laced with sarcasm. “There’s no such thing as justice in this world, kid. Power and status are everything.”

“Dad, I really don’t agree with what you’re doing.” Logan’s voice quivered, his eyes brimming with tears. “Mommy and Uncle are working their butts off to get by. Why are you pushing them around? If it’s just for me, please stop this silly game!”

Silly game? Oh, the irony.

His own flesh and blood calling his actions silly!

“Did Matilda put you up to this, huh?” Yvan sneered. “Did she send you here to talk to me?”

In Yvan’s mind, it was already a foregone conclusion that Matilda was behind Logan’s visit.

Was such a woman truly fit to be a mother?

Logan stared back at Yvan for a long moment before a knowing smile cracked his youthful face. For a five–year–old, it was a remarkably sardonic grin. After a pause, he said, “Mr. Boyd. you want me, right? I’ll come back to the Boyd family, but in return, you leave Mommy alone.

Yvan’s heart skipped a beat as Logan shifted back to that formal address, dropping the endearing ‘dad‘ for the blunt ‘Mr. Boyd.‘ Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

“Don’t hesitate. I’ll go with you. In exchange, you stay out of Mommy’s life!”

The words from the child’s mouth were like daggers, piercing Yvan’s heart.

Yvan had to admit that Matilda could not hurt him, but little Logan was enough to leave him bleeding.

The disappointment in his eyes was glaring as if Yvan himself had failed as a father.

After pursing his lips, Yvan asked quietly. “Are you sure?”

The little boy looked up, his dark eyes vast and lonesome as a galaxy. “Yes, from today on.”

After work, Logan climbed into the family car on his own accord. As they drove away from the company. Yvan asked, “Did you say goodbye to your mommy?”

Logan turned away, his voice indifferent. “No.”

Yvan clicked his tongue. “At least give your mom a heads–up; otherwise, she’ll think I’ve kidnapped you.”

“I don’t want my mom to know it was a trade–off,” Logan said, looking down. “You tell her so she won’t be heartbroken.”

Yvan took a longer look at Logan, impressed by the kid’s astute mind, and then he sighed and dialed Matilda’s number.

Matilda knew Yvan’s number all too well; it was ingrained in her memory, even in the darkest times of the past five years.