She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 221

Hilda stiffened.

She discreetly sized Damien Croix up.

Impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, Damien carried a lingering trace of expensive perfume, as if he had just rolled out of some wealthy socialite's bed. His striking eyes locked onto hers with a smile that was purely, unabashedly seductive. "What I mean is, you'd be better off dropping those ideas and staying right by Luther's side. Your ex-husband is no match for your former ex-husband."

Hilda instantly realized that Damien knew everything.

She frantically racked her brain for a way to shake him off.

The car pulled over to the side of the road.

Damien opened his door and stepped out. Standing outside the vehicle, he offered her an exaggerated, theatrical bow and handed her a business card with flawless politeness. "If Mrs. Sanford ever finds herself feeling lonely or unfulfilled, just call this number. I will do absolutely everything in my power to make you happy, and I am quite certain you can afford my rates."

Hilda's voice was ice. "I don't need it."

Damien smiled. "You will."

The car door slowly slid shut.

It gradually blocked out those piercing eyes that seemed to read her very soul.

...

Aegis Group.

The top-floor executive suite.

Luther sat in total silence behind his desk, holding a stack of photographs. Every single one featured Hilda and Harrell—gazing into each other's eyes, holding each other, or sharing a tearful, tender look. Anyone could see it. They looked exactly like a couple deeply in love.

Yes, they loved each other.

So where did that leave him?

The man standing across the desk spoke in a hushed tone.

"Harrell Judson has already begun arranging their immigration papers."

"The list includes Mrs. Sanford."

Luther looked up at him. His gaze was dark and unfathomable.

The man quickly excused himself.

Only Luther remained in the sprawling office.

He stared down at the photographs. Moving with deliberate slowness, he pulled out a lighter and burned every single picture to ashes, tossing the remnants into the trash can. As long as Hilda refused to leave the country with Harrell, he could pretend he knew nothing. Their wedding would proceed exactly as planned.

It was dusk by the time he left the office.

Shadows blanketed the city.

A Rolls-Royce Phantom glided smoothly into the driveway.

The car stopped, and Luther stepped out. Although little Annie wasn't as overly affectionate as an eager puppy anymore, she was still quietly sitting in the living room watching television, secretly waiting for her father. A six-year-old girl always needed company.

Luther walked through the foyer.

He took off his coat, walked over to Annie, scooped her up, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Is Mom upstairs?"

Annie gave a small nod.

Instead of rushing upstairs, Luther sat down and watched cartoons with the little girl for a while before finally making his way up the stairs to the second floor.

Hilda was in the sitting room of their master suite.

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