Chapter 30
Matilda shuddered, her disbelief lifting her gaze to meet Mason’s indifferent eyes.
After his words settled, he rose, nodding slightly at them. “Well, I should get going. If you change your mind, give me a call anytime. Our design team at the firm is really looking forward to having you on board. And thanks for the coffee; it was great.
He pushed open the door and left, a business card of his tucked beneath the coffee mug.
Matilda’s heart raced, and it took her a while to collect her thoughts.
When Mason climbed into Yvan’s sleek car, Yvan immediately turned to him and asked, “How’d
it go?”
Mason just shook his head. “No dice.”
“I figured as much…” Yvan muttered to himself before starting the engine and smoothly pulling away from the studio.
As they merged onto the freeway. Mason finally broke the silence. “Why didn’t you just help her yourself? Why go through me?”
Yvan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel “Me? She’d probably rather diet accept my
help.”
“That figures.” Mason chuckled carelessly. “She’d welcome me more than you.”
Yvan, irritated, honked the horn aggressively. “You have a death wish?”
“Hey, hey, I’m helping your ex make some dough, and now you want me dead?” Mason shook his head and then prodded further. “But seriously, if you care about her so much, why did you send her to jail five years ago?”
Indeed, she was the woman he hated most, so why did he go to such lengths to help her?
Yvan’s gaze was fixed on the road ahead, and after a long pause, he said, “Because she was responsible for Rachel and her baby’s death.”
“But look, she was pregnant too at that time, and you had no idea,” Mason implied that Yvan had imprisoned his own wife, heavy with child, for a mistress.
Mason, sitting in the backseat watching the landscape whiz by, felt the car accelerate. “What,
hit a nerve?”
Yvan ground his teeth. “I’ve been too soft on you. I’m going to tell your old man about your escapades with those models.”
“Shit!” Mason finally exclaimed, “Yvan, don’t be a fucking dick, man! That’s no way to treat a brother!”
Chapter 38
“Who the hell considers you a brother? Get the hell out of my car!”
After dropping Mason off at his place, Yvan headed back home. His phone rang with an unfamiliar number. He picked up, curious, and a crisp voice said, “Daddy, it’s me.”
Oh boy, his son!
Hearing that voice, Yvan softened. “Logan, what’s up, kiddo?”
Logan sounded mature beyond his years. “Daddy, did you go see Mommy today?”
How could the kid be so sharp?
Yvan walked back to his room as he spoke, “What makes you say that?”
“Mommy told me someone recognized her as Dawn and wanted to offer her a deal.”
Logan sighed deeply. “Daddy, you sent them, didn’t you?”
Yvan felt like he’d hit the jackpot having such a bright son.
Of course, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree!
Yvan easily admitted without a second thought. “Yes, I want to help your mor my.
“Why now?” Logan’s voice felt like it was whispering right next to his ear. “ay, if you feel sorry about what happened five years ago, Mommy and I will accept your gesture. But if it’s just pity, we don’t need it.”
Yvan felt a chill, clutching the phone. “Did your mom teach you to say that?”
Sigh…
Why was Daddy always assuming?
Logan shook his head where Yvan couldn’t see and said. “These are my words, Daddy. Mommy doesn’t know I called you. In fact, I got your number from a business card I found in your car
last time.
Yvan had to hold back and take a deep breath. “Logan, you weren’t there five years ago; you didn’t go through it, so you can’t understand what I felt. But now, if I’m offering help, why not accept it? I only want to make your life a bit better.”
“I don’t need a better life.” Logan’s voice dropped. “Daddy, I can’t understand what you did to Mommy, and you can’t understand how we feel. If you really don’t care about Mommy, then please don’t bother us anymore. Thanks for your concern.”
With that, the kid hung up, and Yvan stared at the phone screen, lost in a daze, unable to snap back to reality.
He had the unsettling feeling that Matilda was slipping through his fingers.
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