A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

When Yvan and Adrian heard the words “Matilda’s been kidnapped,” both men were jolted to full attention. Yvan snapped out of his shock first, grabbing Adrian’s phone and bellowing at his underlings. “Find out where Matilda is now!”

Kidnapped? Who the hell would want to kidnap her?

A wave of unexplained panic surged through Yvan’s chest. He had a gut feeling that this was no random incident. For some reason, it seemed like someone had orchestrated everything. including Matilda’s disappearance.

His fingers trembled slightly, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Adrian, who narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

Matilda awoke on the cold concrete floor to a grotesque, sneering face–the same man who had beaten her in the restroom was now leering at her with a twisted grin. Barely conscious, Matilda gasped for air as a sharp pain seared through her lungs. Blood traced a crimson line from the corner of her mouth, her appearance a pitiful sight..

“Well look who’s awake.”

The blond thug chuckled viciously, using the toe of his boot to lift Matilda’s face. Bound hand and foot, she was powerless to resist as he closed in, his hands groping her and igniting a wave of revulsion within her.

“Miss sure didn’t lie to us…” the thug sneered. “Though you’re a mother, you’ve still got a body that we can barely enjoy.”

Matilda’s eyes welled up with tears as she attempted to shrink back, her movements restricted by her bindings. Her struggles seemed only to fuel the man’s desire. He grabbed her chin roughly, wiping the blood from her face with his coarse fingers, and studied her with a smirk. “Not a bad face either, kind of tantalizing.”

Shivering, Matilda tried to muster strength in her hoarse voice, “Stay away from me!”

But her cries were barely a whisper. Sapped of strength, the terror of being brought to this unknown place gripped her, and the dark memories of her time in jail flooded back. Her face turned ashen, making her eyes appear bloodshot and desperate.

“What are you screaming for? You’ll have plenty of fun soon enough!” The thug dragged her from the floor, his threat clear. “If you resist, I can’t promise your precious son will stay safe.”

Matilda’s body quaked. “Where’s Logan? What have you done to him?”

“You care about him that much? Well, what if his life was snuffed out? How desperate would you be, then? Hahahaha!”

He tossed her onto a disheveled cot, a gesture that felt like being locked in a hopeless prison

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cell. Matilda was forced face–down into the mattress, and then a heavy hand landed on her back as if to plunder everything from her.

Tears streamed down Matilda’s face uncontrollably. “Let me go! Just let me go!”

“Miss would love to see you dead.” the man taunted. “What did you do to offend her so?”

Who was this “Miss“?

Matilda screamed, “I don’t know your so–called Miss. Don’t touch me–don’t!”

As he tore at her clothes, the man delighted in Matilda’s frantic, helpless despair, grunting a name through clenched teeth, “You might as well know before you die–Miss is an Archer. You know her, don’t you?”

Miss Archer?

Ella Archer!

Matilda’s eyes blazed with fury. “If you lay a hand on me, I’ll die right here in front of you!”

It was Ella, it had to be! Her heart was cold, not only aiming to destroy her but also her son!

How innocent Logan was!

“You’re making empty threats! You’re in no position to threaten us.”

“How much did Ella pay you to be so lawless?”

Blood trickled from Matilda’s throat. “If you hurt my child, you’ll be cursed! You’ll all be cursed!”

“Oh, always with the talk of curses.”

The thug ripped her blouse apart. “The most boring thing in the world is revenge–it’s just a tool for comfort for sad little creatures like you. I’ve got plenty of life ahead of me, and I’ll live it up just fine!”

Matilda spat out a mist of blood, feeling her life fraying at the edges, her mind slipping away in her most vulnerable moment.

Her eyes began to glaze over as if the pain had dulled her senses to a faint. The man burned the image of her defeated state into his mind before his hands resumed their exploration of her

skin.

Hatred boiled within her–for Ella, for Yvan!

She had been cast into hell five years ago, and now, once more, she was living a fate worse than death.

“Yvan, it all started with you. You are the original sin, the incurable transgression!” she yelled.

Under the man’s weight, Matilda trembled on the rickety bed that screeched with every movement. The man seemed to grow more brutal, his palm striking her face with force.

Numped to the pain, the slap felt like it hit cotton. Matilda didn’t make a sound, her body taut as

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the man reached for her legs, which she kept fiercely closed, inciting a roar from him, “Damn it, stop playing the saint! There’s no woman I can’t have!”Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.