She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 26

Back at the apartment.

To Hilda's surprise, Luther carried little Annie straight into the master bedroom and gently placed her on the large bed. Hilda couldn't help but say, "I'll just take care of her in the children's room."

Luther looked up at her, his handsome features shadowed, making it impossible to read his intentions.

"You and the kid sleep here."

"I have some work to handle in the study."

Hilda swallowed her arguments.

She knew full well that this special treatment was entirely because of his grandmother. It wasn't because Luther had suddenly grown a heart, or genuinely cared for Annie, or wanted to be a real husband to her. It was simply a matter of convenience. Once he figured out his physical curiosity and no longer desired her body, he would go right back to devoting all his love to Jolie.

What was love anyway?

Where in this world could you find a love completely free of impurities?

Even the deeply favored Jolie.

Was probably having a completely sleepless night tonight.

Luther took a quick shower and headed into the study.

Hilda stayed up looking after Annie, not daring to sleep too deeply.

Sometime after midnight, she suddenly woke up. She could hear the sound of rain tapping against the windowpane, the rhythm shifting from clear to muffled. Opening her eyes, she saw the child sleeping soundly beside her. The floor-to-ceiling windows were fogged over with white condensation, making it impossible to tell if it was day or night.

The study was submerged in darkness.

The software running on the computer occasionally chimed with an incoming message, but there was no sound of typing. Unable to help herself, Hilda got out of bed to check, only to arrive at the doorway and realize Luther wasn't inside.

An empty desk.

An empty chair.

Only the laptop emitted a soft blue glow.

Outside, the rain suddenly came down in heavy, pounding drops.

As if summoned by fate, Hilda slowly walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and pulled back a corner of the curtain to look down. She saw a white Maserati parked below. A slender figure stood there holding an umbrella, and standing opposite her was none other than her husband, Luther.

Luther and Jolie, secretly meeting in the dead of night.

Even from this distance, Hilda could feel the woman's desperate sorrow and the man's tender pity. There was no passionate embrace, but you could practically feel how madly they loved each other. Perhaps the forbidden nature of their relationship only made it more agonizing and thrilling.

Finally, the umbrella fell to the ground.

The woman's face was drenched in rain.

She threw herself violently into the man's arms.

Only for the man to snatch her slender wrist.

Luther hesitated for a few seconds before offering a quiet explanation. "Years ago, Jolie saved my life out at sea. What I feel for her isn't just admiration—it's gratitude."

Jolie saved him?

Hilda was half shocked, half completely devastated.

So the entire foundation of his love was a lie.

Because she was the one who had saved him in the ocean that year.

An emergency had forced her to leave, so she had asked Jolie to stay behind and wait for him to wake up. She never could have imagined Jolie would so shamelessly rewrite history.

How could Jolie possibly save him?

Jolie didn't even know how to swim.

What an excruciatingly painful misunderstanding.

—Jolie had kept her in the dark for six years.

When the pain hit a breaking point, a person could still smile, even if there were tears in their eyes.

Hilda looked straight into Luther's eyes and said softly, "So that's how it is."