Through the crowd, Yvan could see Matilda occasionally chatting with Orson at her side. Although Orson’s expression was cool and detached, he was obviously well-bred. Standing tall at over six feet, he made a striking pair with Matilda from behind.
Yvan was seething with jealousy.
So, Matilda could be this tender and beautiful beside another man. She could let down all her guards and hostilities, a side she never once showed to him.
Yvan watched her like a thief in the night, as if trying to etch her silhouette into his memory. In the past, he would've marched right up to them, and even if he couldn't break Matilda away from her companion, he'd at least throw a few biting remarks to ensure nobody had a good time.
But now, he was scared.
Scared after learning the hard truth from Logan.
He had dismissed her pain, tirelessly defending Ella, but reality had slapped him hard across the face, proving how horribly wrong he was.
How many times had he pushed them to the brink, watching idly, never once reaching out a hand to save them?
Yvan's heart ached with a sharp, persistent pain.
Carl noticed Yvan's distress and spoke up, "Mr. Boyd?"
Yvan snapped out of his daze, looking bewildered as if he'd just woken from a nightmare. "Carl," he muttered, "who's that with Matilda?"
Carl remained silent.
Yvan insisted, "Find out! Even if she's my ex-wife, she's not up for grabs!"
That's when Carl spoke up.
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