She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 38

Harrell hung up the phone.

Hilda resumed her painting.

She was currently working on a piece titled Age of Red Maple.

Hilda's art was sweeping and majestic, standing in stark contrast to her delicate, fragile appearance. Just looking at it was visually arresting. Harrell had seen his fair share of beautiful women, but his feelings for Hilda were a mix of admiration and pity—a cocktail of emotions he couldn't quite decipher himself.

He couldn't help but ask, "I heard you trained under Zoltan Varga. Is that true?"

Hilda gave a soft hum. "I met him when I was very young. He asked if I wanted to learn oil painting. I loved doodling at the time and showed some early talent, but my mother's health was failing, so we couldn't afford the lessons. It got put on hold. My mentor eventually told me to come to his studio for half a day every week. From the time I was nine until I turned eighteen, I studied under him."

Harrell was stunned.

Zoltan was a world-class artist. To teach a complete stranger's daughter for ten years without charging a single cent—that was impossible without some deep underlying connection. But Hilda probably didn't know the truth. Only Zoltan knew the real story, and the man had been traveling the globe for years, his whereabouts unknown.

A bold thought suddenly struck Harrell.

—Did Zoltan retire from the public eye simply because Hilda had completed her apprenticeship?

What kind of relationship warranted such profound dedication?

Harrell didn't ask.

…

That afternoon, Hilda picked Annie up and brought her back to the apartment.

To maintain the prestige of Mrs. Sanford, Luther had assigned her a Bentley Flying Spur to drive.

The white car suited her perfectly. Annie sat in the backseat, chattering happily away.

Hilda smiled, thinking that once her divorce from Luther was finalized, she would reveal Annie's true identity. She could walk away with nothing, and so could Annie. If Luther cared, he could maintain a relationship with the child.

She didn't want to burden Annie with the feuds of the previous generation. It was best to part on good terms!

Luther wasn't coming back for dinner.

Hilda didn't mind.

She took Annie grocery shopping, cooked a meal, and even baked a delicious little cake... That night, after a bubble bath, Annie fell into a deeply satisfied sleep.

The moon hung high in the clear night sky.

Hilda sat in the living area, flipping through an art catalog.

She was waiting for Luther to come home.

To discuss something.

The apartment had a few empty rooms, and she wanted to convert one into a studio. Naturally, she needed his permission, so despite the late hour and her damp hair, she waited for him to return.

…

Late into the night.

A black Ghost pulled up downstairs.

The vehicle's sleek chassis gleamed under the streetlights. Luther had an important business dinner tonight and had downed several glasses of wine. The driver helped him out of the back seat, speaking softly. "Mind the steps, Mr. Sanford."

Luther gently pushed him away. "You can head back."

Clark watched him step into the lobby before driving off.

Hilda still smiled placidly. "Luther, you don't seriously think Jolie and I can just play nice, do you?"

She no longer loved him.

But Jolie would be her sworn enemy for life.

Growing up, Jolie had stolen far too much from her. How was she supposed to just let that go? Even when she had saved his life, Jolie had lied and stolen the credit. So much time had passed, and it wasn't that she didn't want to hold a grudge; she just refused to drown in the past. She wanted to move forward.

Ahead lay her future.

Behind her was a marriage rotting like mud.

Looking at Hilda's indifferent expression.

Luther couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment.

She was so hopelessly naive.

She thought everything was so simple.

Fine.

If she bungled the birthday banquet.

—He'd just have Jolie take over.

He hesitated before going into the bathroom to shower. He had wanted to reignite the intimacy from the night before, but the conversation had entirely killed his mood. When they finally laid in bed, Hilda brought up her request for an empty room. He agreed absentmindedly, completely uninterested in what she needed it for.

In his mind, she was terribly mediocre and dull.

Tonight, he had zero desire to touch her.