Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

The villa was pitch–black, not a glimmer of light in sight.

Lizette hadn’t seen Remington’s car roll into Oakridge Heights with her own eyes, she would’ve thought The place had been abandoned ages ago.

Thinking Remington might have headed straight upstairs to crash, Lizetta didn’t bother flipping on the lights and just felt her way upstairs in the dark. But no sooner had she set foot on the stairs than a hoarse voice suddenly cut through the silence,

“Where you off to?” This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

“Ahl

Lizetta nearly jumped out of her skin, clinging to the banister before realizing it was just a dark figure slumped on the couch. It was Remington.

She caught her breath and frowned, “What the heck are you doing lying there in the dead of night without any lights on? You scared the living daylights out of me!”

He clearly knew she had come in but stayed silent, only to spook her now – as if he did it on purpose.

Lizetta walked over and turned on the floor lamp by the couch. The dim light revealed the man reclining on the couch, eyes slightly open, his gaze cold and alert, showing no sign of sleepiness.

“This is my place. I’ll hang wherever I want, lights off if that’s what I fancy. Not like some people who barge. into others‘ homes in the middle of the night and then have the nerve to play the victim.”

Lizetta felt a sting when he mentioned “others‘ homes“, not painful but definitely uncomfortable.

But he wasn’t wrong- this wasn’t her home anymore. She apologized, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have come uninvited;”

He cut her off with an even colder look, “If you know that, then get out!”

Lizetta froze, her grip tightening on her phone until its edge made her palm tingle. She didn’t move.

“Are you feeling alright? Is it the booze making you queasy? How about I whip up some pasta for you, maybe you’ve got a headache? I could give you a massage?”

ог

She set her phone and purse aside and reached out. She remembered Remington often got headaches after drinking. She was here to ask for a favor, and even if he was being a jerk, she had to suck it up.

Pride was nothing compared to Yolanda’s situation.

But before her hand could even reach his forehead, Remington blocked her. His eyes narrowed, he snapped coldly, “I don’t need anyone fussing over me. Spare me the fake concern!”

She quietly withdrew her hand and decided to cut to the chase.

“About what happened tonight, Yoli got locked up by Cassius, no bail allowed. Can you maybe…”

“No! Leave.”

Remington cut her off yet again, closing his eyes with a look of sheer exasperation.

Lizetta’s breath tightened, “Can’t you just help me out? Yoli got dragged into this because of me.”

Remington suddenly opened his eyes, a chill in his gaze, “Lizetta, you’re the one who refused to be my wife, who wanted to pay off the 3 million and sever ties with the Dashiell family, cutting me off completely. Why on earth should I make things hard for my own friend for someone who means nothing?”

Destie’s face went pale. She knew it wouldn’t be easy before she walked in, but facing his coldness now, the felt a mix of hurt and helplessness,

Seeing her eyes welling up, Remington got up to leave. On impulse, Lizetta grabbed his wrist, but he shook her off, and she collapsed onto the couch.

As he moved to step away, she said with a trembling voice, “Weren’t we going to have a breakup shag? I can do that.

Remington stopped in his tracks and turned to look down at Lizetta. Backlit by the dim light, his figure cast arshadow over her, his face obscured, his gaze piercing her like icicles.

But she was out of options, recalling how strongly he had reacted that time in the hotel, followed by the long cold shower he took.

It seemed that aside from this, she had nothing else to offer, nothing else to negotiate with. With shaking. hands, she started unbuttoning her shirt, slipped off her top, pulled down her pants, and took off.

As the pants hit the floor, she grew flustered, especially since he hadn’t responded, and just watched with a detached air that made Lizetta even more embarrassed,

“Go on, keep stripping,” Remington’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade of ice.

Lizetta couldn’t continue, hugging herself, her skin turning from pale to burning hot. Bathed in the faint glow, her face flushed, her eyes red and lashes fluttering non–stop.