She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 50

Luther was incredibly rough, leaving Hilda bruised and aching.

…

The next morning. Erudite Arts.

June, the secretary, walked in carrying a stack of files and smiled. "Mr. Judson has returned to Havenworth City. You'll be running the show here for the next few days."

Hilda nodded.

June suddenly stared at her mouth and asked softly, "What happened to your lip, Director Cassidy? Did you eat something that gave you a fever blister?"

Hilda's tone was flat. "Just leave the files and get back to work."

June didn't dare ask another question.

Once the secretary left, Hilda walked into the private washroom and examined the cut on her lip in the mirror. Memories of the previous night flashed unbidden in her mind. When Luther got into his head, he became a savage. He practically tore her apart. She would rather he redirect all that violent, pent-up energy toward Jolie. She didn't have the stamina to indulge his madness. He had kept her awake until three in the morning, and she had to be up by seven. She was surviving on exactly four hours of sleep.

She dug an ointment out of her medical kit and carefully applied it.

Then she spent two hours burning through paperwork.

Just as she was about to head into the studio to paint, her phone rang.

Seeing the caller ID sent a shock through her: Sylvan Cassidy.

—Her father.

Hilda hesitated for a few seconds before answering. Sylvan's tone was unusually mild. "Where are you? I need to discuss something with you."

Hilda assumed he wanted to talk about her mother's medical condition.

"Mom is in Switzerland for her treatments."

"She's been recovering remarkably well."

"I'll be flying out to visit her in a few weeks."

Sylvan gave a noncommittal grunt.

He insisted on meeting in person to talk details.

Hilda reasoned that her parents had been high school sweethearts once upon a time; surely there was still some lingering affection there. Even if his concern was woefully late, it was still concern. If her mother knew he cared, it would probably make her happy. So, she agreed to meet him at a café near the Indigo Tower.

Half an hour later, Hilda was seated in the first-floor café, having ordered a Blue Mountain coffee—her father's favorite—waiting with a small spark of hope.

A shadow fell over the table.

Hilda looked up and instantly froze.

Sylvan wasn't alone.

He had brought Mina Lovell—Jolie's mother—and Yara Lovell with him.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening.

Hilda let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

The café erupted with the sound of the two women shrieking.

Sylvan was absolutely enraged.

He raised his hand to deliver a second slap.

But this time, Hilda caught it. Her slender fingers locked like a vice around her father's wrist. She stared directly into his eyes, her voice lethally quiet, dropping every word like a stone—

"First of all. Annie is not a bastard."

"Jolie is."

"She is the illegitimate child you had with Mina, the filthy secret you had to hide in the dark. And the two women sitting next to you are the real whores who steal other women's husbands. Just like Jolie."

"As for mistakes, exactly what mistake did I make? If I made any mistake at all, it was not having Yara thrown directly into a prison cell. Maybe behind bars, she would learn how the law works and finally shut her vile mouth."

"And lastly. Mr. Cassidy. As of this exact second, we are done. You are no longer my father, and I am no longer your daughter. Until you grow old, until the day you die, I will never call you 'Dad' again. And my mother feels the exact same way. She is no longer your wife."

Sylvan was stunned.

He had never imagined Hilda could be so utterly ruthless.

She had always been so gentle and compliant.

How had her years in Alpha City turned her into this?

He tried to speak again, but Hilda had already stood up and walked away. She left without a moment of hesitation, not even throwing a single backward glance at the man she had called her father for over twenty years. In this moment, her heart was nothing but cold ashes, replaced only by a bone-deep resentment. From this day forward, Hilda Cassidy had no father.