Chapter 95


    Matilda stormed out of the diner and gged 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. Thest


    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, m 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 minutester, 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 ss of water – every detail of the Boyd Mansion was second nature to her, every


    memory still vivid.


    Climbing back upstairs with the ss, 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 forfort.


    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 derisiveugh, “Does he even acknowledge me


    as his dad? Why don’t you ask him that?”


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    “If he doesn’t ept you, have you ever considered it might be your fault?” Matilda couldn’t hold back


    her anger and raised her voice, “Yvan, stop ming others for everything. Or do you really think you’re


    faultless?”


    Yvan’sugh 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


    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.”