She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 117

Luther and Harrell fought fiercely.

No one could stop them.

Eventually, someone called the police, and both men were hauled into the precinct. The desk officer on duty was caught in an incredibly awkward position—

First, this was a domestic dispute.

Second, they were fighting over a woman.

Third, he couldn't afford to offend either of these men.

But since someone had called it in, he had to mediate.

It happened right around clock-out time at Aegis Group. The swarm of employees hadn't dared to openly spectate, but they had secretly slowed their pace, sneaking photos to send to their friends and family. It was just too explosive: the CEO and his cousin throwing down, apparently over Mrs. Sanford.

…

Half an hour later, Luther and Harrell were sitting in the precinct.

In dead silence.

Neither of them said a word.

The desk officer cleared his throat. "If neither of you objects, I've called Mrs. Sanford to come act as your guarantor. You can sign the papers, pay the fine, and leave. It's best if this doesn't happen again, or you might both end up with a misdemeanor charge for public disturbance. Given your social standings, neither of you can afford that kind of embarrassment."

Hilda was coming?

Luther frowned slightly.

But the officer had already made the call.

Shortly after, Hilda arrived.

The moment she walked in, she saw Luther and Harrell.

Both were bruised and battered. Luther had blood on his shirt, while Harrell had taken the brunt of the damage, his face marked with stark purple bruises, indicating Luther had not held back.

Hilda watched them in silence for a few seconds.

Both men stared right back at her.

After a long moment, Luther broke the silence, his voice raw. "Since when?"

Harrell stood up to lunge at him again, but the officer firmly held him back, attempting to soothe the situation. "If you've got issues, talk it out in private! You're both men of status. Behind closed doors, this is just a personal matter. Why can't you resolve it privately? It's unseemly. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Judson?"

Harrell pointed at Luther and sneered—

"Yes, I do like Hilda."

"But we aren't as filthy as you."

"I wouldn't sneak around with Jolie Lovell while still married. I respect Hilda. I want her and Annie to live a happy life. But you've disappointed her time and time again. Did that Lovell woman slip something in your drink? Brainwash you? A wife you've lived with day and night doesn't compare to a few crocodile tears from your mistress, does she? Fine. You don't want Hilda and Annie? I do. I'll marry her properly and take her home. If you have any guts, you'll sign those divorce papers right now."

Luther's expression turned incredibly ugly. "Harrell, do you even know what you're saying?"

"I do."

"I am perfectly lucid."

"Never been more clear-headed."

"Let me spell it out for you: I've liked her for a long time. There's no crime in loving someone. I haven't hurt anyone, and Hilda has never accepted my feelings. She has remembered, every single second, that she is Mrs. Sanford, Luther's wife."

A deathly silence settled over the precinct.

What kind of massive scandal were they witnessing?

A war over a wife between Alpha City's wealthiest man and a Havenworth City heir.

And they were cousins.

Everyone pretended not to hear a thing.

The three of them left the precinct.

Lori came personally to pick them up.

When Lori saw Hilda, she felt incredibly conflicted. At one point, she genuinely thought her boss and Hilda were going to make it work. She never expected Jolie to snatch him away in the end. She couldn't understand why the CEO would choose a woman who threw hysterical, suicidal tantrums—it completely contradicted the professional image Jolie normally presented.

Lori opened the rear door for Luther.

Before getting in, Luther instinctively looked back at Hilda.

He was the one who had asked for the divorce.

But he didn't seem to have emotionally detached from the marriage at all.

Frowning at the woman, he asked, "Why aren't you getting in?"

Hilda stood in the dark night.

Wearing a black Dior trench coat and low heels that revealed a sliver of her slender calves.

Beautiful and elegant.

Harrell stood right beside her.

Hilda looked at Luther calmly, devoid of both love and hate.

A moment later, Harrell opened the passenger door of her car, placed a hand on her shoulder, and gently guided her inside. Then, shooting Luther a final, piercing glare, he got into the driver's seat.

Luther stood completely frozen.

That black BMW was Hilda's car.

And Harrell had driven it away just like that.

Taking his wife with him.