A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

No one knew about the tragedy that had unfolded, except for Matilda. She was the sole keeper of that grim secret.

The day Chloe left was like any other she got dressed in her crisp work attire, slipped into her pumps, and headed to the office. When the workday ended, she quietly handed in her resignation letter while no one was looking, tying up all her foose ends before she vanished without a backward glance.

Matilda had wept for her. Back when Chloe was crumpled on the floor, her blood painting a stark contrast against the white tiles, she had clutched Matilda’s hand, her wrist still bleeding profusely.

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“Matilda,” she had whispered, “don’t let Declan touch me. Don’t let him find me.”

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With tears streaming down her face, Matilda promised, and from that moment on, there was only silence.

Matilda continued her life as though nothing had happened. She went to work, shared laughs and banter with her quirky colleagues, brainstormed new fashion lines in meetings, and kept Chloe’s secret locked away. Nobody in the marketing department knew that their bright and bubbly beauty was gone.

It was a week later when Declan realized Chloe had gone radio silent. After their last encounter, he had callously tossed her aside like yesterday’s newspaper, not even bothering to help her get dressed. He

didn’t spare a thought for the pain she must have endured as she walked away, nor the depths of despair she must have felt.

To him, she was just a toy, and he regretted not having one last fling before discarding her. But a week of silence had passed, and Chloe hadn’t reached out to him, not a single WhatsApp message or a playful “Mr. Yeager” like she used to. She had once been ever–present, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, all to earn a few extra bucks from Declan. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

He had always considered Chloe the kind of woman who would spread her legs for anyone who flashed the cash. She was like an annoying fly that couldn’t be swatted away, always buzzing around him, her voice dripping with a fawning tone whenever she called him “Mr. Yeager.” Yet, to others, she exuded a cold and sexy demeanor.

Declan was well aware that many men coveted her, and he took pleasure in knowing she obeyed only him. Every command he gave, every task he demanded, was met with her compliance, and it fed his ego.

All men wanted her, but she was his pet.

But Declan never considered the possibility that the woman who seemed so resilient, who never complained of pain, might one day admit that she was hurting – and how

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soul–wrenchingly painful that admission would be

Irritated, Declan stubbed out his cigarette and glanced at his phone. Chloe’s chat was silent; her Facebook untouched for a week. He scoffed, thinking she was playing some kind of game with him.

But he’d never be the one to reach out first. So, with cold finality, he deleted Chloe’s contact, expecting her to come crawling back, begging to be added again. The thought brought a twisted smile to his face.

She was just another boring woman, after all. What a waste of his time.

Matilda was settling into the rhythm of the creative studio. The team was a motley crew of personalities, all easy to get along with. Orson might have had a resting glum face, but- his talent was undeniable. Together, they often came up with ideas that were outside the

box.

The game’s launch was a hit, with player registrations skyrocketing. Their creative direction was paying off, so they doubled down, crafting new storylines and releasing

fresh fashion. The studio’s value soared.

Occasionally, Matilda’s thoughts would drift to Chloe and the scar on her wrist. She’d look at her own scars and shake her head at how fate played its cruel games.

As time went on and the game topped the download charts for a month, Matilda felt a mix of pride and impending loneliness. The thought of parting ways with the studio made her heart heavy. She never expected to grow so attached in such a short time. Leaving now would be harder than she ever imagined.