She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 134

Late at night.

Luther stepped out of the apartment building.

A red sports car was idling by the curb.

Jolie was waiting anxiously beside it. When she saw him, she rushed over, her face a mask of hurt. "Are you regretting this? Do you not want to divorce her anymore? Luther, I'll literally die without you."

The truth was, he found women who threatened suicide repulsive.

Once, he had harbored some affection for her.

After all, she had saved him years ago.

And for a long time, she had been brilliant and radiant.

But lately, she felt like a complete stranger. It was as if she had been replaced by someone else entirely. Threatening to jump off buildings had become her standard manipulation tactic. Over time, any man would grow exhausted. He had absolutely no desire to deal with a woman who spent all day sobbing.

—Especially when compared to Hilda.

He opened the door of his Rolls-Royce Phantom.

He slid into the driver's seat.

Staring into the dark night, his eyes were bottomless.

He was continually surprised by Hilda.

She never clung to him.

She was a constant source of wonder. She was The Bibliophile. Her art and words stirred his soul. As much as he respected Jolie's business acumen, he knew that fierce corporate executives were a dime a dozen. A true artist was incredibly rare—one in ten million.

Even if they parted ways forever.

He still loved The Bibliophile's work.

He regretted it.

He never should have let her walk away with 'First Love'.

Outside the window, Jolie was slapping her hands against the glass, desperate to talk.

But he had zero interest in seeing her tonight.

He buckled his seatbelt, pressed the gas, and slowly pulled away.

Jolie lunged for the handle, missing it entirely and nearly tripping over her own feet.

She stood there, dumbfounded, watching the taillights of his car fade into the distance.

The city's neon lights painted the sky.

Lori Lynn knocked and entered.

Hearing her footsteps, Luther closed the file on his desk and looked up. Lori offered a professional smile. "Mr. Sanford, I checked the details. The Bibliophile's exhibition opens this Friday. Tens of thousands of online tickets sold out instantly. Her painting 'First Love' will be auctioned off, and the proceeds are going directly to the Project Hope Schools in underprivileged areas. The black-market estimates are already hitting 40 million, but I suspect it will break the 100 million mark."

Luther knew the truth.

That painting wasn't actually worth a hundred million.

No matter how talented The Bibliophile was.

The hundred million was for the story behind it.

He looked at Lori, his voice utterly nonchalant. "Send a proxy to buy it for me. There is no ceiling on the price."

Lori smiled and nodded.

As she walked out, she couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

What a mess.

This was what it looked like when a man didn't realize he was in love until it was too late.

Once she was gone.

Luther stared blankly at his documents for a long time, unable to absorb a single word. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the pastel dawn, haunted by the memory of the night they broke it off. He had known she was The Bibliophile, yet he had thrown 'First Love' at her feet and told her to take it.