She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 220

Jolie Lovell's funeral was a pathetic, hasty affair.

But Hilda attended anyway.

At the hospital's funeral home.

Hilda stared down at the white sheet draped over Jolie's body. She signaled an attendant to pull it back so she could see the face. Standing nervously beside her, June hesitated. "Director Cassidy, maybe you shouldn't look. I heard she died horribly. It's going to be gruesome."

But Hilda insisted.

And when the sheet was pulled back, she stared.

It was indeed horrifying.

Jolie's eyes were wide open, locked in an expression of eternal terror.

Yet, looking at the twisted corpse, Hilda felt absolutely nothing. Jolie and her mother, Mina Lovell, had subjected Hilda and her mother to unimaginable torment, and they had nearly destroyed Harrell's entire family. This miserable, grotesque end was exactly what Jolie deserved.

Stepping out of the funeral home, Hilda's expression remained dark and heavy.

Trying to lighten the mood, June started chattering about work. She mentioned that Erudite Arts was thriving, and that the cosmetics company Hilda had co-founded with Naomi Zeller was finally hitting its stride. But mid-sentence, June's voice trailed off, her eyes widening as she stared down the corridor.

Confused, Hilda followed her gaze.

Instantly, tears welled in her eyes.

—It was Harrell.

He was wearing the same dark overcoat, looking painfully thin, watching her in complete silence.

He must have followed her, knowing the hospital was neutral ground.

Hilda smiled through her tears.

June quickly covered her mouth, whispering, "I'll go wait by the elevators. I'll keep an eye out."

Hilda practically sprinted down the hall. Throwing herself at Harrell, her hands fluttered frantically over his arms, his chest, his face, desperate to confirm he was real. Tears streamed relentlessly down her cheeks as she mapped the contours of his face, grounding herself in the undeniable reality that he was standing right in front of her, alive.

He stood perfectly still, letting her touch him.

He looked down at her with a gaze so full of warmth and desperate affection that it physically ached.

After a long time, she tilted her head up, her face drenched in tears.

He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her tight against his chest.

He buried his face in her hair.

They just stood there, holding each other like they were the only two people left on earth.

Absorbing each other's warmth.

"Harrell, I never thought I'd see you here."

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"How is everyone back home?"

"I'm so happy! Is our Landon doing okay?"

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