She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 151

Luther froze.

A middle-aged woman, quite elegantly dressed, stood there.

"Your wife?" She stared at Luther for a long moment and chuckled. "Didn't treat her right, did you? A handsome young man came by to help her move. He didn't let her lift a single finger the whole time. He was so protective of her, it made my heart flutter. I wanted to marry him on the spot. By the way... I'm single. Want to grab a drink?"

Luther shot her a dark glare and turned to head downstairs.

Once downstairs, he got into his car and quietly smoked two cigarettes before driving toward a specific neighborhood.

He remembered Harrell had bought a house in Alpha City.

Hilda must have moved there.

Twenty minutes later, his car pulled up to the property's gate.

Luther honked the horn. The guard recognized him and quickly hit the button to let him in. Just as Luther stepped out of the car, he saw Harrell standing on the front steps, his tall figure blocking most of the house's silhouette. His expression was stony, his gaze freezing cold as he looked at Luther. "Well, if it isn't a rare guest."

Luther took a step forward.

Luther was in a crisp white shirt, while Harrell wore a black one.

Both men were equally striking in appearance.

Luther spoke. "I want to see Hilda."

Harrell shoved his hands into his pockets, a sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Did I hear that right? You're looking for your ex-wife, and you came *here*? What, don't you guys have phones? Or has Aegis Group gone bankrupt and you couldn't pay your phone bill?"

Luther's eyes turned icy. "I want to see Hilda."

Harrell gave a cold laugh.

"She's not here."

"If you want to see her and Annie, contact them yourself."

"I'm not your messenger."

"But really, don't you have a new lover? Isn't parading around with her and sharing a bed enough for you? What do you want with Hilda? Trying to relive old times? With how stingy you are, what woman would want to see you? When you like them, you treat them like treasure, and when you're bored, you toss them aside—you don't even care about your own daughter. Why are you looking for her? So she can look at your heartless face? Or do you expect her to play the dutiful wife again? Luther, I can't even stand to listen to your shameless requests. Hilda married you and had your child, and all you gave her was a measly fifty million, like you were dismissing a beggar. What, did you think fifty million could buy her entire life? She can make that back by selling a few paintings. She really doesn't need your pocket change."

Luther stared at Harrell.

Harrell had been running hot these past few days.

There were red marks on his neck from a recent massage therapy session.

A faint, dark red bruise peeked out from his collar, looking suspiciously like a hickey.

Luther's dark eyes deepened.

*Did Hilda give him that?*

For a moment, his emotions were entirely tangled.

She was his ex-wife. They were supposed to be done with each other emotionally, yet he couldn't stand the thought of her with someone else, especially Harrell. Perhaps driven by pure male competitiveness, Luther said evenly, "I'm looking for her because she bought me a batch of clothes. I wanted to thank her in person."

Harrell scoffed.

He tugged at his black shirt. "Is that supposed to be special? To be honest with you, Hilda bought this shirt for me last week. And not just this—my entire closet is stuffed full of clothes she picked out for me. It's just her being thoughtful. A few pieces of clothing aren't worth making a fuss over."

Luther stared at his shirt.

Then he looked back at the mark on his neck.

His face darkened like a stormy sea.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the foyer, and a soft voice called out, "Harrell, who are you talking to?"

Hilda walked out of the house.

Any hesitation would just be cruelty to herself.

Because Luther was the one who had abandoned her—for Jolie.

The night was deathly quiet.

Luther took several minutes to process this.

After a very long time, he took two steps back, resting a hand on his car door, and said coldly, "Actually, I didn't come here for anything important. I just received a batch of clothes and wanted to come by and say thank you. Seeing that you're doing well, I won't bother you anymore."

His words sounded like well-wishes.

But his eyes were like ice.

Without waiting for Hilda to react, he pulled open the door, got into the car, and drove off before he even fastened his seatbelt.

As Luther's car disappeared, Harrell turned to look at Hilda.

He gently grasped her hand. "Do you still miss him?"

Hilda softly shook her head.

He carefully guided her back inside.

She was a little over four months pregnant.

It was the time when she should be showing.

But because she hadn't fully recovered from her previous car accident, she was frail.

The doctor had warned there was a risk of losing the baby.

The warm, orange light in the entryway felt incredibly comforting.