Matilda's shoulders were bare, her blouse torn by Yvan's rough grasp. Tears threatened to spill over as she struggled to hold back her emotions, but it was a losing battle.
Yvan wiped her tears away with a forceful hand, “Upset?”
Matilda glared at Yvan with raw anger, “You’ll regret this.”
“Regret?” Yvan chuckled, shaking his head with a nonchalance that seemed almost reckless, “I’ve spent my whole life regretting things. What’s a little more?”
The most dangerous people are those with nothing left to lose. Matilda used to be that way, and now, it seemed, so was Yvan.
Trembling with fear, Matilda seized the opportunity when her arm broke free, delivering a sharp slap across Yvan’s face. The sound echoed through the room, and Yvan’s head snapped to the side, a vivid red imprint quickly forming on his pale, handsome cheek.
She didn’t hesitate, “I told you, I’m done letting you hurt me over and over!”
“I hurt you?”
Yvan laughed so hard he nearly choked, and Matilda half-expected him to cough up blood, “Oh, Matilda, you’re a master at playing the perfect victim. Anyone who dares to cross you ends up looking like the villain next to your innocent act. It’s a clever trick! Using past wounds as a weapon, retreating just to gain ground—right?”
His words cut deep, leaving Matilda at a loss for a comeback. Her lips trembled, “Yvan, you…”
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