She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 195

For a long moment.

Yorick didn't react.

He had always harbored a bit of an interest in Hilda. Seeing her suddenly appear, dressed like a woman in mourning, made his heart itch wildly. For a split second, he wished he were Luther. But he quickly regained his composure, adopting a strictly professional demeanor.

"Hilda, I know you're upset about Harrell's investment, but business is business. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. The market's been terrible lately. Most of that money vanished into the ether. There's barely anything left, maybe a few hundred thousand. If you want it, I can have finance wire it over."

"A few hundred thousand?"

"Yorick, do I look like a beggar to you?"

Hilda sneered.

She slowly took off her black headscarf.

Her slender fingers grabbed a heavy vase off a nearby stand.

Before Yorick even realized what was happening, the vase smashed directly over his head.

Blood immediately poured down his face.

Zane yelled for everyone to calm down.

But Yorick held Zane back, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. "She absolutely despises me! But Hilda, think about the laws of the jungle. It's the oldest rule in the book. If you want something, you have to sacrifice something else. Luther finalized his divorce. You know damn well that if he wanted to protect the Judsons, no one would dare touch a single hair on your heads. But he didn't. You know exactly why."

Perhaps the pain was making him delirious.

Or the blow had pushed Yorick over the edge.

He was far bolder than usual.

A cold smirk twisted the man's bloody lips. "You're going to end up with someone eventually. And you hate Luther's guts, don't you?"

Zane snapped, "Yorick, are you insane?"

Yorick wiped the blood from his forehead, looking completely unbothered—

"Yeah, maybe I am!"

"So what if I want to act a little crazy for once?"

Hilda took a step forward.

She stood incredibly close to Yorick.

Her voice was faint, carrying a dangerous rasp. "I'm going to make you throw up every last cent."

She wouldn't choose anyone else.

She was Harrell's wife.

Just as she was about to step back, Yorick suddenly grabbed her slender wrist. His bloody palm stained the cuff of her sleeve. Hilda looked down, violently yanked her arm free, and then slapped him hard across the face. Taking a few steps back, she disappeared into the night.

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