She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 115

Luther didn't sleep all night.

As dawn broke, he opened the car door and headed up to the apartment.

Annie was his own flesh and blood, after all.

He just couldn't put his mind at ease.

Hilda answered the door.

She said calmly, "Annie is still asleep. The fever hasn't come back. You should go home."

Luther stared straight into her eyes.

The morning light was faint.

There was still a lingering pallor on her face.

Frowning, he said softly, "You don't look well. Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

Hilda completely ignored his concern, stating matter-of-factly, "You can have the divorce papers drafted. If necessary, I'll keep it a secret for now. It's entirely up to you. But aside from visiting your grandmother, I won't attend any social events with you, and I certainly won't issue any PR statements to clear the air for you and Jolie. Of course, you're free to take back your settlement offers if you want."

Luther stared at her.

Hilda was being utterly ruthless.

Her meaning was crystal clear.

She would never smooth things over with Jolie.

She would cut all ties.

Luther's Adam's apple bobbed. "She was never the third party in our marriage."

Hilda smiled faintly.

"She once said that the woman who isn't loved is the actual homewrecker."

"I guess I'm the other woman."

Luther looked visibly displeased.

He had genuinely wanted to compensate her, hoping things wouldn't end on such hostile terms.

But clearly, Hilda didn't see it that way.

She was drawing a hard line and harbored a deep hatred for Jolie.

He was a wealthy aristocrat who had always had a temper.

At this point, he couldn't be bothered to coax her anymore.

—Fine. Let it be.

After Luther left, the apartment door slowly clicked shut.

Hilda pressed a hand over her heart, struggling to catch her breath.

Suddenly, a look of realization washed over her face as she mentally calculated the dates—

Her period was over forty days late.

She felt unwell, and her chest was heavy with nausea—it wasn't just exhaustion.

—She might be pregnant.

…

At nine in the morning.

Hilda sat in the hospital corridor.

Showing up this early, with such a complicated look on her face.

—Something was definitely weighing on her mind.

But Gardenia didn't ask right away. Instead, she took Hilda's hand and gently asked if she had eaten breakfast. Mentioning that she had made her favorite homemade pastries, Gardenia offered a soft, warm smile. "They were your favorite when you were little, but my health was always so poor that I rarely had the chance to make them for you. Thinking back on it always makes me feel guilty."

Hilda's heart ached.

She quietly followed her mother into the dining room.

Sitting in the sunlight, she tasted the pastries her mother had made.

Tears began to fall, one by one.

But Gardenia still didn't ask.

As a woman, she could naturally guess what was going on.

Luther's absence last time had already revealed the truth.

She gently stroked Hilda's hair, her voice as soothing as a spring breeze. "Mom always told you, don't be afraid of losing to him. There's no shame in divorce. I don't care if you have wealth or status; I just want you to be free and happy, and to find a man who truly deserves you... No matter how great Luther is, if he's not right for you, then none of it matters. My Hilda is wonderful, and she deserves all the beautiful things in this world."

Hilda broke down.

She looked up at her mother, her voice laced with broken vulnerability. "Mom, raising me was so hard. Did you ever regret it?"

Gardenia gently shook her head. "I love you. How could I ever regret it?"

Hilda managed a trembling smile.

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

She realized she had her answer.

She loved the baby in her womb. Whether she kept it or not had absolutely nothing to do with Luther.