She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 58

The city lights flickered on.

A luxurious black Bentley cruised down the streets.

The woman in the passenger seat had fallen asleep.

Hilda was a terrible drinker.

A single glass of rum cocktail had actually made her drunk.

Luther drove while talking to little Annie in the backseat. The little girl's big eyes were wide with worry. "Is Mommy drunk?"

Luther gave a soft "Mhm."

Then the little girl said sweetly, "But Daddy will take care of Mommy."

Luther glanced into the rearview mirror.

The headlights of the car behind them happened to illuminate the interior, lighting up Annie's face. For a split second, it was as if he were looking at Hilda. Pale, soft, and incredibly beautiful. He didn't respond, keeping his focus on driving. The car remained quiet, save for the faint hum of the dashboard.

The car pulled up downstairs at the apartment.

Luther carried Annie out first.

The little girl obediently wore her small backpack.

When Luther pulled Hilda out, Annie stuck close by his side, her tiny hand gripping the corner of his coat. She was so tiny and adorable. Under the night sky, it was an incredibly touching scene, one that made a woman watching from a distance feel her eyes burn with tears.

—It was Jolie.

She had been waiting here for a long time.

She saw Luther carrying Hilda out of the car.

His expression was overwhelmingly gentle.

He even tolerated that little bastard clinging to his side.

Had Luther completely lost his mind?

...

Luther carried Hilda into the master bedroom.

Though she was drunk, she was a quiet sleeper.

She was simply out cold.

Luther pulled a thin blanket over her, then went to check on the little creature. Even if she wasn't his, he still had to make sure she was safe. To his surprise, when he walked into the children's room, Annie had already changed into her pajamas—a little cow onesie. She was standing on a stool in the bathroom, brushing her tiny teeth.

She brushed them very clean.

Her smile was bright and healthy.

Luther just stood there watching, until the soft little thing walked up to him and made a request. "Daddy, I want to drink milk."

She was still drunk.

Her mind was too hazy to know what night it was.

Her slender fingers brushed against the man's neck, and she called out to him in a dreamy, husky voice tinged with a nasal tone, carrying a hint of grievance—

"Luther."

The man shuddered.

Hilda hadn't called him that in a long time.

A tear slipped from the corner of Hilda's eye.

Her fingers traced the straight line of his nose, her lips trembling as her voice fell as softly as a raindrop hitting a pond, lightly splashing down: "How long until you get bored?"

...

Luther's phone started ringing.

A glance showed it was Jolie calling.

The man hit reject.

Downstairs, Jolie gripped her phone, trembling all over with sheer fury.

—Luther was refusing to even answer her calls now.