She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 113

They stepped out of the nursery.

Hilda carefully pulled the door shut behind her.

She closed her eyes, taking a moment to ground herself in the quiet night.

Then, she slowly opened them and looked at Luther. "Take a seat. I'll boil water for some tea."

Luther's gaze was heavy.

He said nothing.

Hilda took off her coat and draped it over the back of the sofa. Beneath it was a black wool dress that made her face look even more luminous and highlighted her slender curves. Her profound calmness gave her an undeniable allure. She didn't know if men were just inherently perverse, but the more she let go, the more uncomfortable Luther felt. Unable to help himself, he stepped up from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face against the back of her neck. His voice was incredibly hoarse. "Hilda."

She stiffened.

Then, with a hint of mockery, she replied, "This isn't really appropriate, is it, Mr. Sanford?"

The words carried a heavy weight.

Thick with derision and cold sarcasm.

Luther was not used to being spoken to like this.

But Hilda was his wife, the woman he had wronged, the one who had given him Annie. No matter how unpleasant it felt, he swallowed his pride, slowly loosening his grip on her.

Forcing it would only make things bitter, wouldn't it?

—Reason returned to him.

He agreed that clinging to her now was wildly inappropriate.

The night was completely silent.

The only sound was the water boiling in the kitchen.

Hilda wasn't making tea because she wanted to drink it; she just needed a buffer, since this confrontation had come sooner than expected.

The settlement negotiations were happening too fast.

Once the water boiled.

She turned off the stove, brought out the tea leaves and cups, and poured two servings.

The man and woman sat on opposite sides of the dining table.

The overhead light illuminated two young faces.

One was thirty-one, the other twenty-seven, yet they had already endured multiple separations and were now finally at the end of their marriage.

He suddenly felt a sharp, burning ache in his eyes.

It was probably the lights. They were just too glaring.

Yes, the lights were too bright.

Hilda watched him quietly, making no attempt to refuse. She wouldn't turn down this money for Annie's sake. If he was determined to give it, she would take it. She lowered her eyes, lost in thought for a moment. After a long silence, she looked up and said softly, "Aside from all that, there's one more thing I want."

She wanted to take back what was hers.

Her first love, her affection, her youth.

Luther asked, "What is it?"

Hilda looked him straight in the eyes—

"The painting hanging in your study."

"'First Love' by The Bibliophile."

Luther frowned slightly.

Why did Hilda want that painting?