A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

Matilda stormed out at three in the afternoon, despite Logan’s pleas for her to stay. Her resolution was firm, and with a heavy heart, she parted ways.

A nagging fear haunted her- the prospect of losing to Yvan and, consequently, losing Logan. was a cruel lesson, but she had to teach Logan to stand on his own two feet, to grow up even if it meant being without her.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she hailed a cab home.

No, she couldn’t give up. Not while there was still a sliver of hope for her boy to return to her

arms.

Ella made another visit to Yvan’s office that day, bringing with her a thoughtful breakfast to start his morning. Much to her dismay, Yvan dismissed it with a casual Tve already eaten,” pushing it aside.

Ella, feeling slighted, resolved to cling to Yvan until he agreed to take her home that evening. Yvan, outmatched by her persistence, could only acquiesce, escorting her home to keep the

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When Logan saw Yvan bring another woman home, his reaction was eerily composed, a numb calm in his demeanor.

Holding a warm mug of milk, his cheeks still flushed from the fever that had recently subsided. he greeted, “Welcome home, Mr. Boyd.”

His voice was youthful yet unnervingly steady.

The voice irked Yvan, who was growing increasingly frustrated with the boy’s constant resistance and cold demeanor.

Without a word, Yvan fetched a pair of slippers that Evie had once worn for Ella. Surprised, Ella glanced at Logan, who appeared unfazed.

“Are you Yvan’s kid? You look a lot like him.” Her tone was insincere, almost artificial

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly before he replied matter–of–factly. “Indeed, I am Mr. Boyd’s

son.”

The boy’s composed rationality was unsettling, even for adults.

Ella’s gaze lingered on Logan, thoughts racing before she mustered a smile and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Rachel Archer’s sister, Ella Archer.”

The mention of Rachel stirred something familiar. Logan mimicked her smile, taking her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ella.”

Yvan looked on, stunned by Logan’s politeness – a stark contrast to the boy’s usual standoffish

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attitude. Had he suddenly turned a new leaf?

Only Logan knew the truth. Ella was not to be underestimated, and direct confrontation would only sour his father’s opinion of him further.

Adults loved their charades; Logan decided to play along.

With an innocent smile, he asked, “Is Ella staying the night with you, Mr. Boyd?”

The question hung in the air, insinuating Ella was just another one of Yvan’s flings. Ella’s face flushed with indignation. “No, my relationship with your dad isn’t like that.”

In truth, Yvan hadn’t even laid a finger on her.

“Really? So, is Mr. Boyd bringing home a housekeeper?” Logan’s smile was free of malice. “Welcome, Ella. Don’t feel out of place, just think of yourself as one of the family.”

Ella was speechless, cornered by a child’s cunning words.

Damn it, what was this kid’s game? His words seemed laced with mockery. And why did he refer to his father so formally as “Mr. Boyd” instead of “Dad“?

Ella’s gaze hardened as she studied the boy before her, her thoughts plunging into a chasm of

uncertainty.

Logan, still smiling, hopped off the couch and gave Yvan a ceremonious bow, as if to a stranger rather than kin. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll retire upstairs. Goodnight, Mr. Boyd. Goodnight, Ella.”