She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 287

['It has been raining endlessly these past few days.']

['I hope you are in good health, Mother.']

['Once things are better, I want to bring you to Alpha City so you can enjoy your later years in comfort. I've enclosed a check for fifty thousand. I hope this eases some of your burdens.']

['—Hilda']

Hilda?

That was Mrs. Sanford's name.

Was the woman in her dream Mrs. Sanford?

She had actually wandered into the late Mrs. Sanford's dream.

The woman woke with a sudden gasp.

The room was pitch black.

The only sound was Jocelyn's soft, rhythmic breathing.

She reached out, but the space beside her was empty.

Where was Luther?

In the faint moonlight, confusion painted her features.

She had no idea what was happening to her.

One thing she knew for certain: she felt absolutely no jealousy toward the late Mrs. Sanford. But where was this phantom ache in her chest coming from? Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming urge to see the woman's workspace—the study connected to the master bedroom, the very place where Mrs. Sanford had painted and written her letters.

Throwing on a cardigan, Joyce walked toward the adjoining study.

Pushing the door open, she was stunned to find someone inside.

It was none other than Luther.

He was sitting at the desk, a half-burnt book resting in front of him. He was staring at it quietly, a cigarette burning down to the filter between his fingers. The soft glow of the floor lamp illuminated the tear sliding down the corner of his eye.

Joyce froze in her tracks.

Was Mr. Sanford crying?

Was he mourning Mrs. Sanford?

Instead of feeling uncomfortable, she felt a profound, almost fated pull. She knew she should step back and leave him be, but her legs refused to move.

The man finally noticed her.

Their eyes locked.

One stood in the shadows, the other in the light.

But the one bathed in light had never truly known what light was.

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