She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 25

Luther arrived at the hospital.

Inside the private VIP IV room.

Little Annie had just finished her drip and was sleeping groggily.

Aside from Hilda, Luther's parents were also there. Seeing Luther walk in, Nathan spoke in a stern tone: "You're a man with a wife and child now. Stop running around in the middle of the night where no one can find you."

With a granddaughter, Nathan and Eleanor felt entirely fulfilled.

They had originally backed down, planning to let Luther handle his own mess once Matilda passed. But the situation was entirely different now. Now that they had a precious granddaughter, the child's well-being came first. A broken family would break the little girl's heart, and they absolutely wouldn't allow it.

Luther glanced at Hilda.

She was still wearing the same dress from earlier, clearly having rushed over without even changing. She held little Annie in her arms, rocking her gently to sleep. She looked incredibly natural doing it. The little girl in her embrace was soft and rosy-cheeked, her tiny hands clutching her mother.

Luther couldn't look away. He answered his father quietly—

"Is her fever down?"

"I'll take them back to the apartment."

...

Nathan looked mildly satisfied. "At least you're acting like it now."

It was getting late.

Luther's parents headed back to get some rest.

Luther led the mother and daughter out.

His parents were gone, so there was no need to put on a show anymore. Yet, watching Hilda carrying a child while wearing stilettos, he stepped forward and took the little girl from her arms, a hint of mockery in his tone. "How did you even manage to raise her to four years old?"

Hilda was just about to reply.

When little Annie woke up in Luther's arms.

The little girl blinked her big, innocent eyes, staring blankly at the man holding her. It took her a moment to realize who he was. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face affectionately into his shoulder, letting out a soft, sleepy yawn before murmuring, "Daddy."

Luther froze for a few seconds before giving a low hum of acknowledgment.

The little girl hugged him even tighter.

Once they were in the car, Luther buckled his seatbelt, his eyes drifting to the rearview mirror—

Even if they weren't madly in love, they at least got along perfectly well. This was just a completely ordinary night. They took their sick kid to the hospital, and on the drive home, they talked about her condition. There was no intense passion, no vicious corporate scheming, just the simple, grounded feeling of everyday life. So ordinary it was almost mundane.

But it was incredibly peaceful.

A kind of peace Luther couldn't quite put into words.

It was inexplicably comforting.

Deep into the night, the car gradually fell quiet.

The only sound was the faint hum of the dashboard.

...

A while later, the car slowly pulled into the underground garage.

Hilda reached over to unbuckle the child.

Luther said casually, "I'll carry her."

She wasn't his kid, but Luther at least had enough grace to do that much.