A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

Chapter 218

Orson was jolted awake by a noise, and the grumpiness that clung to him like a second skin in the mornings was evident as he squinted up at Matilda, who stood in the doorway. The covers slid off him, revealing his torso, shirtless and surprisingly appealing despite his usual hunch over a computer. His lean chest bore the subtle testament to a modest commitment to fitness.

Matilda couldn’t help but see a resemblance to her own brother in Orson’s face. “Did I wake you?“.

He mumbled an incoherent response, propping himself up with one hand while the other raked through his tousled hair. Squinting at Matilda, he asked, “What time is it?”

She replied, “Nine… Nine in the morning…”

Before she could finish, Orson collapsed back onto his pillow with a thud, surrendering to sleep as if it were his natural state.

Here we go again, the art of instant slumber.

Logan tiptoed around, whispering, “Is Uncle Orson going back to sleep?”

“Yes, let’s leave him be,” Matilda suggested, ushering Logan out and gently closing the door behind them. In the quiet of his room, Orson’s face softened in sleep, free from his usual icy detachment. The bed, evidently chosen to suit his taste, cradled him in undeniable comfort.

That aftemoon, Matilda took Logan to enroll in a prep class at an exclusive private school. The admissions officer was taken aback by Logan’s age. “Five years old? Our program starts at seven…”

Logan insisted,

looks and his politeness. “How about we give you an entrance test? If you pass, you can join

confident, having spent countless hours poring over eclectic books in Yvan’s study, his young mind already brimming

will

“Don’t worry, Mommy,

holding the

Logan nodded proudly.

in sentences, quoting famous sayings, and your handwriting! Did you learn all this

was referring to the influence of Yvan’s elite education during his enforced stay with

paper. The script was impossible without practice. She whispered, “Did he make you practice it?” “He‘ meant

Yvan.

nodded, “He said the font was elegant. Good to

one of the few positive legacies Yvan had left

day after tomorrow with all

!

her profusely. The examiner, still in awe, gently