She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 290

Diana walked slowly toward them.

She held a manila folder in her hand. "This is a DNA test! Damien Croix could fake her identity, but he couldn't alter her DNA. We ran the samples, and the results are undeniable. Joyce Croix is Hilda Cassidy, the wife who supposedly burned to death two and a half years ago. Her new identity was completely fabricated by Damien."

Joyce's throat constricted, making it impossible to swallow.

Diana stepped right up to her, a bitter smile twisting her lips. "Yes, I was insanely jealous of you. Jealous that you had Luther, jealous that you got to marry into the Sanford family. But I didn't fabricate this. It's the absolute truth. You've forgotten everything, so let me remind you how Luther treated you when you were Mrs. Sanford. Let me remind you how he shipped you off to treat your depression while you were pregnant. He neglected you so thoroughly that you were left to burn in that sanatorium fire. And now, he gets to reinvent himself as the deeply devoted, grieving widower. It's pathetic, isn't it? Didn't you think it was strange? A billionaire marrying a simple elementary school teacher with zero prenuptial agreement? It's because you are Mrs. Sanford. You are the woman he owes his miserable life to. And as for Jocelyn? She's your biological daughter with Luther. That's why he manipulated Damien into letting him adopt her. Did he tell you he couldn't have any more kids? That's because you already gave him three... Annie, Landon, and Jocelyn. They are all your children. You've given birth three times, Joyce. You had cosmetic surgery, which is why you still think you have the body of a young girl, but you married Luther when you were just twenty-two. He treated you like garbage back then. Every single thing he's doing for you now is just guilt and compensation. There's no fairy-tale romance here. Maybe there is now, but you two never loved each other back then."

Joyce's lips trembled violently.

Suddenly, the story Luther had told her echoed in her mind.

Every single detail lined up perfectly.

She remembered her very first encounter with Luther.

Down in the parking garage.

The moment she said her last name was Croix, he immediately asked about her brother. He clearly already knew him.

No wonder he had handed her brother an executive position the very first day.

It was because her brother had saved her life.

It was all compensation.

Joyce closed her eyes, a rush of names flooding her mind... her mother Gardenia, Naomi, Harrell, Soren, and the rest. They were all people deeply tied to her past. She didn't remember a single one of them, yet they had all treated her with overwhelming kindness. It was all because she was Hilda.

Everyone knew she was Hilda.

But the past was too horrific.

They didn't want her to remember. They would rather she marry Luther believing she was his new bride, blissfully unaware, so she could stay and raise their children. She had been living in a fabricated reality—her own personal Truman Show.

She was Joyce.

But she was also Hilda, Luther's true wife.

Her mind shattered into a million chaotic pieces.

Unable to bear the sheer weight of the truth, her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor.

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