Chapter 230 Drunken Confession
Chapter 230 Drunken Confession
The door slammed shut with a bang.
Matilda practically dragged Thomas inside, half-crushed under his weight.
Thomas always looked lean, but his frame was surprisingly massive. His dead weight pressed down entirely on her.
Matilda hauled Thomas forward, stumbling her way to the living room.
When they reached the sofa, Matilda couldn't hold on any longer and simply let go.
His tall frame crashed heavily onto the couch with a dull thud.
Thomas's brow furrowed. He let out a muffled groan, rolled over, and one long leg dropped straight onto the carpet.
The room reeked of alcohol.
Matilda rubbed her aching shoulder and looked down at the man sprawled on the sofa.
His shirt collar hung open, his tie had disappeared somewhere, and his hair fell messily across his forehead. There wasn't a trace left of the high-and-mighty CEO of Ascend Global Holdings.
He was just a drunk.
She turned around, planning to head straight upstairs.
She'd barely taken a step.
"Water..."
The man on the sofa mumbled incoherently.
Matilda didn't stop.
"Thirsty..."
Thomas tugged at his clothes. His breathing grew heavy, and his voice turned hoarse.
Matilda paused at the foot of the stairs, closed her eyes, and finally turned back around.
She walked into the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and came back out.
Returning to the sofa, Matilda held out the glass.
Thomas didn't take it. His eyes stayed closed.
Matilda had no choice but to bend down, slip one hand behind his head to prop him up slightly, and bring the glass to his lips with the other.
Water flowed from the rim into his mouth. A few drops slid down his jawline and disappeared into his shirt collar.
After he'd drunk half the glass, Thomas turned his head away.
Matilda set the glass on the coffee table and started to pull her hand back.
Suddenly, her waist tightened.
Thomas's arm wrapped around her, pulling her close.
Caught off guard, Matilda tumbled straight into his embrace.
"What are you doing!"
She angrily tried to pry his arm off.
But Thomas held on tight, burying his face against her stomach, his cheek rubbing against the fabric of her clothes.
"Don't go."
His voice was low and rough, with a stubborn edge.
"Thomas, what the hell—let go!" Matilda yanked at his fingers.
Thomas's strength was shocking. Even dead drunk, he refused to release her.
"I was wrong."
His voice came out muffled against her clothes.
Matilda's struggling stopped.
Thomas buried his face deeper, his arms cinching her waist even tighter.
"I'm sorry. It's all my fault."
He rambled incoherently, his breath hot against her clothes. Even through the fabric, she could feel the burning heat radiating from his body.
"Please don't ignore me."
"Don't hate me."
His voice carried a heavy nasal tone, even trembling slightly.
"I love you."
The living room fell deathly silent.
Matilda stood there, letting him hold her.
She didn't struggle. She didn't respond.
She didn't know what reaction to have. When she'd needed him most, he hadn't been there.
Matilda's expression remained blank as she reached down and peeled Thomas's fingers away one by one.
This time he didn't resist. His hand fell limply to his side.
Matilda straightened up, went to the guest bedroom for a thin blanket, and tossed it over him, covering most of his body.
Then she turned, climbed the stairs, and didn't look back.
The next morning.
Matilda pushed open her bedroom door and headed downstairs.
The living room was empty.
The blanket on the sofa had been neatly folded and placed in the corner.
The glass on the coffee table was gone too.
He left?
Matilda descended the last step and was about to head to the kitchen for water.
Suddenly, the clatter of pots and pans came from the kitchen.
Then the smell of something burning drifted out.
Matilda frowned and hurried over.
In the kitchen doorway, a tall figure turned around holding two plates.
Thomas wore last night's wrinkled shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar hanging open, stubble shadowing his jaw.
When he saw Matilda, he stopped in his tracks.
"You're up?"
His tone was awkward, almost careful.
Matilda's gaze dropped to the plates in his hands.
"What are you doing?"
"I made breakfast." Thomas lifted the plates slightly.
Matilda couldn't help herself. "You know how to make breakfast?"
Thomas nodded and carried the plates to the dining table.
Matilda walked over and glanced down.
Two fried eggs lay on the plate, edges completely charred black, yolks broken and running everywhere.
Next to them sat two pieces of toast.
Rock-hard and blackened on top.
The whole thing looked absolutely disastrous.
Thomas pulled out a chair and looked at her.
"Have some."
Tension edged his voice.
Matilda stared at the pile of blackened food, then at Thomas standing by the table.
The mighty CEO of Ascend Global Holdings, up at the crack of dawn burning two eggs, all to get back in her good graces.
Once upon a time, she might have been touched.
Now, she just found it absurd.
"No thanks." Matilda's tone stayed flat, revealing nothing.
Thomas's hand on the chair back tightened instantly, his knuckles going white.
"Since you've sobered up, you should leave."
Matilda opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk.
"This is my home. Don't come back again."
Thomas didn't move.
He stared hard at Matilda's profile.
She didn't even glance his way. She twisted off the milk cap and poured it into a glass.
Treating him like he was nothing more than an irrelevant stranger.
Thomas's brow furrowed tightly. Pain twisted through his stomach.
"I was wrong."
His voice came out rough and raw.
Matilda stopped mid-sip.
"I know you hate me right now. Hate the Stuart Family." Thomas walked around the table toward her. "About Daniel—I'll give you answers."
"I'll find whoever's behind this."
"I'll take care of Daniel for the rest of his life."
Each word fell heavy and deliberate.
Matilda set down her glass and finally looked him in the eye.
"Are you done?"
Thomas's Adam's apple bobbed.
"If you're done, then leave. The door's that way. I won't see you out." Matilda pointed toward the entryway.
Thomas studied her for several seconds.
That cool, distant face showed not a single trace of attachment.
His hand clenched at his side, then released. In the end, he said nothing more.
He turned and strode toward the door.
The door opened, then closed.
The house fell quiet again.
Matilda turned around. Her gaze landed on the disastrous plate of fried eggs and toast sitting on the dining table.
She pulled out a chair and sat down, staring at that plate for a long, long time.