Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

Remington gave a cold look.

“Lizetta’s my wife. Are the Hawthorne family and the Dashiell family, including me, Remington, picking a fight?”

His voice was cool but the threat in it sent chills down one’s spine.

Elara trembled all over, her complexion turning ugly.

With a mix of grievance and forbearance, Evelina looked at her, “Mom, maybe it was just my illusion. Sister wouldn’t do such a vile thing. Let’s just drop it, okay? Please apologize to the guests for me. It’s enough that Remi stays by my side.”

Elara had no choice but to leave, and Evelina reached to move Remington’s hand down to hold his.

He slipped out of his sleeve, saying.

“I’m going to change.”

He was still wet, and Evelina could only say, “Yeah, Remi, hurry and don’t catch a cold.”

He left, and the driver was waiting at the door holding a complete set of replacement clothes from the car.

“Where’s the missus?” Remington didn’t take the clothes, but frowned and asked.

The driver, Christ, was taken aback, “The missus? She’s probably bathing and changing clothes.”

Remington then took the clothes and was escorted by a servant to a guest room to change.

Christ went downstairs and, finding a servant, urgently inquired about Lizetta, only to be told she had already left.

Christ was surprised and hurried to drive out of the Hawthorne family residence, just in time to see Lizetta hailing a cab and getting in.

Christ didn’t pursue further and drove back.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Lizetta saw Remington again. Coming out of the hallway, she saw the familiar car parked under a tree nearby.

The man stood by the car, smoking. Seeing her, he crushed the cigarette butt and threw it into the trash, then started walking towards her.

Lizetta pretended not to notice and walked past him.

Remington frowned, “You didn’t get sick last night, did you?”

The weather was cold; Evelina had developed a fever last night, and because she was pregnant, she couldn’t take medicine. With the servant taking care of her all night, Remington couldn’t leave.

He called Lizetta, but this woman had blocked him, leaving him no way to check on her.

Lizetta had a slight fever last night, but she was in good health and had herself some hot water and felt much better by morning.

She turned around sarcastically, “Mr. Dashiell, coming to show concern now? Isn’t it a bit late? Oh, that’s right, I remember now. Mr. Dashiell, you were busy last night taking care of your sweetheart, how could you bother with me? Luckily, I’m like a weed, not as delicate as those noble flowers, so I’ve got resilience on my side! I’m doing just fine, no need for your concern!”

After speaking, Lizetta turned to leave.

He didn’t want her anymore, and she didn’t need his pretend concern now.

14:15

But Remington suddenly gripped her shoulder tightly.

“Lizetta! Do you really have to talk to me like this? You pushed Evelina into the water, you did something wrong. and let others clean up the mess, and you still think you’re right?”

“I didn’t push her!” Lizetta retorted, struggling.

Remington said sternly. “Evelina can’t swim. Would she jump in by herself?”

Lizetta felt as if her heart was being squeezed, struggling to breathe, and she didn’t want to argue anymore.

She knew he wouldn’t believe her; she just knew.

Exhausted, she said, “Whatever, if you think I was the one wicked enough to push her, you don’t need to pretend to care now. Let go.”

She forced her emotions in check, pushed Remington away, and walked forward step by step.

Remington rubbed his temples and caught up with her again.

“Add me back!” he commanded sternly.

He was done with the anxiety of not being able to reach her like last night.

He insisted, and Lizetta didn’t want to tangle with him further. Silently, she took out her phone and added him back.

“Can I go now?”

She asked, her whole demeanor rebellious and unyielding. NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

Remington was exasperated. He hadn’t slept all night and had been waiting here since before dawn, not wanting to keep arguing with her, and he had lost the patience to coax or care for her.

He slowly let go of her hand.

Days flew by, and Lizetta hadn’t seen Remington again.

She had added his number, but he hadn’t contacted her either, it seemed they had an unspoken cold war.

That day, after finishing her performance at the mermaid–themed restaurant, Lizetta emerged dripping wet from

the water.

She went to the changing room to shower and change and was about to leave when the manager came over

with a smile.

“Ms. Gardenia, that regular customer Mr. March over there would like to buy you a drink. He’s a friend of the boss, so do him a favor.”

Lizetta frowned and said coldly, “Entertaining with drinks is not part of my job.”

She stepped forward to leave, while the manager was in a dilemma, a figure blocked Lizetta’s way.

It was a man in his mid–twenties, sharply dressed, looking pretty decent but with an air of “I’m so handsome” plastered all over his face. His forced suaveness was off–putting.

“Ms. Gardenia, right? I really enjoyed your performance. Do me the honor of joining me for dinner, and this will be yours.”

He flicked a BMW keychain, swinging them, his eyes scanning Lizetta from head to toe.