Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

“So what? He might not be great, but he’s still better than you!”

“Ha, better than me? And you let him kiss you? Don’t forget, Mrs. Dashiell, we’re not divorced yet!”

Lizetta froze, realizing that Remington had gotten the wrong idea.

She instinctively wanted to explain, her lips barely parting when she heard the man’s chilly voice again, “Can’t stand being alone, huh? No wonder you dared to jump into my bed at eighteen!”

Lizetta’s eyes trembled; her blood ran cold. Holding back tears, she said, “Yeah, so you better sign the agreement fast, to save yourself from getting cuckolded. Ah!”

Before she could finish, he pinched her jaw with his fingers, “Is divorce the only thing you’ve got to talk to me about now?”

Lizetta’s lips curled slightly, “Right, why would I keep around a man who won’t even kiss me? To watch him turn into a grumpy old man?”

Remington’s aura grew even colder, his fingers lifting her chin slightly.

She was forced to tilt her head back; her slender neck stretched to a nearly breaking curve, reflecting a soft glow in the dim light.

His thumb and forefinger applied a little pressure, and Lizetta’s lips uncontrollably parted like a fish gasping for air.

“You’re that desperate for a man’s kiss? Fine, I’ll indulge you.”

His voice was cold, but the breath on Lizetta’s nose was scorching.

Adjusting to the dim light, Lizetta glared, watching as his handsome and unapproachable face drew closer.

Her heart pounded like a drum, yet tears filled her eyes. How much she had once longed for his kiss. But not like this, not with such humiliating cruelty.

The crisp sound of a slap echoed in the dim hallway, and the faulty sensor light, joining in at the wrong time, suddenly lit up.

The man tilted his head slightly, his thin lips pressed into an unhappy line, his sharp jawline even more resolute, his pale cheek flushed red, as if a cold mist hovered around him.

Lizetta’s face turned pale as tears streamed down her cheeks.

The air seemed to stop flowing. The sensor light went out silently again, as if even it was intimidated by the man’s formidable presence.

Just as Lizetta felt she couldn’t bear the oppressive atmosphere any longer, Remington let her go.

Without a word, he turned and walked out of the building.

His tall silhouette blocked the moonlight, casting a silvery glow on his broad shoulders, silent and traceless.

Only when he disappeared did Lizetta gasp for air; hands trembling, she collapsed to the ground. After a while, she got up and climbed the stairs.

In the car, Remington lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and the smoke drifted from his thin lips. He touched his slightly numb right cheek with his tongue.

The little lady sure packed a punch. He looked up, his deep eyes reflecting a dim light. Seeing the sixth–floor light turn on, he reached out to crush the cigarette butt, and drove away.

“I think I saw Remington’s car. Did he give you a ride home?”

Yolanda asked loudly as she walked in the door. Lizetta, sitting on the sofa applying medicine, flinched at the

thought of that slap.

“Ouch.”

“You’re such a klutz; don’t move. I’ll do it!”

Yolanda hurried over, took the cotton swab, and carefully treated Lizetta’s wounds.

Lizetta smiled, “Yoli, what would I do without you?”

Hans was abusive, and Lizetta often hid at Yolanda’s place in the same building. Yolanda’s parents favored sons over daughters and were not well–off, so Yolanda saved her own food for Lizetta.

The two girls, bonded through hardships, were as close as sisters. They were the same age, and while Lizetta had skipped grades and graduated in four years, Yolanda was still a junior. She rented this one– bedroom apartment to make working easier.

“Glad that you know it; you’re the genius beauty, and I’m determined to cling to your coattails, so get your act together and repay me! If you ask me, you should take a good chunk out of Remington in the divorce, why let that witch benefit?” Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

Lizetta gave a bitter smile. If she and Remington were a normal couple, she certainly wouldn’t walk away empty–handed.

But she was raised by the Dashiell family, and that debt of gratitude weighed too heavy. She couldn’t hold her head high in this marriage, and she had no right to claim any property.

“He won’t sign the divorce papers.”

“Tsk, he doesn’t want you, but you can’t dump him first. The prouder the man, the more it’s like this. Remington’s just a common Joe!”

Yolanda shook her head, feeling Lizetta deserved better. Lizetta’s eyes dimmed.

Yeah, she thought so too. Remington wouldn’t care for her, and he certainly wouldn’t suddenly fall in love with her. It was just a bruised ego.