Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

Lizetta stood there, with hands on her hips, silenced and stiff as a board after Remington’s warning, and she gave Lucian a reluctant nod.

“Alright, I’m heading in.”

As Lucian walked away, Lizetta immediately gave Remington a stomp on the foot and shoved him hard.

“Back off!”

She had managed to make herself throw up in time, but the alcohol had infiltrated her system, causing her to wobble a bit.

Remington pulled her back and cradled her slender waist with his large hand, plopping Lizetta onto the sink counter and enveloping her with his arms.

Remington had a stern look on his face, with his gaze fixed on her, and his thin lips curled up in an indescribable

sneer.

“What’s the matter, am I cramping your style and interrupting your little walk down memory lane?”

Lizetta was enveloped by his breath, the familiar cool scent mixed with sweetness, unmistakably Evelina’s perfume.

The nerve of this guy, acting like she was the third wheel to his little fling, and now he has the gall to turn the tables on her.Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

Lizetta tried to back away in disgust. “Yes, I’ve already cleared the way for you by hiding out here. You got your awkward moment, and I’ve had my drink, so what more do you want, chasing me down to this spot?”

The mirror on the wash basin cast a cold light on Lizetta’s pale face, making the hints of red flush from the alcohol on her cheeks look unnaturally vivid.

Remington reached out to tidy her messy hair behind her ear, then used the back of his hand to touch her sweaty forehead, frowning.

“Why so pale? Did I force that drink on you?”

Lizetta nearly laughed in exasperation, “Am I some kind of masochist, eagerly downing that drink on my own?”

She turned her head away, not wanting to look at him, but he grabbed her chin firmly and turned her face back to his.

“I was sitting right there; you’re Mrs. Dashiell, and who would dare to force a drink on you?”

If she had just softened up to him, or even just given him a look of pleading, wouldn’t he have cared for her?

After messing it up, she hadn’t asked about his arm injury for days, and today she had the nerve to show up at the welcome party. He hadn’t even blown up at her yet, and here she was acting all high and mighty.

As Remington saw the impatience and disdain in her eyes, and thinking about how she had lit up at another man just moments before, a chill grew in the depths of his eyes.

“You’re asking for it!”

Lizetta glared at him, trying to kick him away with both legs.

But Remington caught her squirming legs and stepped forward, forcing Lizetta to lean back and, in a panic, wrap her arms around his neck.

Her chest heaved, “I deserve it? Are you saying I should have thrown that drink in Cassius‘ face to truly live up to the title of Mrs. Dashiell?”

14:16

In the earlier situation, with Evelina cozily sitting next to him, it was clear who he was protecting.

Wouldn’t Lizetta look ridiculous trying to pull rank as Mrs. Dashiell?

“You could always give it a try.” Remington raised an eyebrow.

Lizetta was seething, but she also arguing pointless. She was still worried about her brother.

Swallowing her pride. Lizetta looked at him and said. “I’m feeling a bit off, and I want to go home. Consider that drink as my apology to you, and while you’re at it, can you please spare my brother?”

Remington’s brow furrowed slightly. “What are you talking about?”

When Lizetta saw his genuinely puzzled expression, she was taken aback.

“Don’t you know that the hospital is pulling the plug on my brother’s medical equipment and medication?”

Remington’s face darkened, and his tone was cold.

“We don’t need to discuss this matter right now.”

Lizetta froze, “What do you mean?”

“Pack your things, move back to Oakridge Heights, and behave. Your brother will be fine!”

Lizetta had thought maybe she had misunderstood him, but no, it was indeed his doing.

Tears burned in her eyes, and her heart felt as though it was being ruthlessly squeezed in his grip.

“Remington, you can’t do this!”

“Why can’t I? Your brother’s hospital is funded by the Dashiell family, and the special care unit he’s in is exclusively for the Dashiell family. Since you so clearly disdain being Mrs. Dashiell, your brother has nothing to do with the Dashiell family anymore. Why don’t you go and ask around? There are plenty of people in Zion City who call me Remington the Grim Reaper behind my back. Do you hear anyone calling me a philanthropist?”

He tried to ask nicely, but she wouldn’t budge.

Since she’s convinced he’s the bad guy, then he might as well live up to her expectations. It seems force is more effective.

There’s no way he’s letting her go and divorcing her right now!