Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

Chapter 100

“If you’ve got something to say, talk with me,” before Remington’s voice trailed off, Lizetta, draped in a bathrobe, got up and swiped the phone away.

Lizetta hopped off the bed and strutted over to the balcony, her voice tight with tension.

“Is he dead?”

“He’s been revived and is out of danger, moved to a regular ward.”

Lucian, standing at the end of the hospital hallway, heard Lizetta’s long sigh of relief through the phone and arched his lips upwards, “Feeling better now? Get some rest; I’ll take care of the rest for you.”

“Thanks, Lucian,” Lizetta, leaning on the railing, let out a relieved smile. No matter what, the guy didn’t kick the bucket, and that took a load off her mind.

Lucian, however, touched his nose, “Did I just rain on your parade with Remi? Remi’s got quite the temper. Better hang up now.”

Before Lizetta could even catch on, the call was ended. Lizetta clutched the phone, her cheeks turned a shade of red as she realized Lucian got the wrong end of the stick.

She turned and walked back into the room, only to find Remington stepping out of the dressing room.

Stunned by his ready–to–go outfit, she approached him, handing back the phone as she explained, “I ran into some bikers today, got mugged, lost my phone and bag. Just now Lucian called to say they found my bag.”

the phone, seemingly unfazed by the danger she had faced tonight. With a cold face, he snatched the phone, tucked it into his suit

caught his sleeve, “Heading out this late? Oh, did you

you.”

forgotten her promise to temporarily return to Oakridge Heights was all because of the gash on Remington’s arm. Plus, she was a bit scared

need, who doesn’t know how to

another chance to keep him and walked away with long strides. Lizetta watched his fading figure,

sound faded

own wife? Had he forgotten? Lizetta swayed slightly, realizing

still going. She stepped inside;

a hot bath anyway, lying in bed afterward with her eyes closed, but all

of Remington seemed to linger on the pillows and blankets. Tossing and turning, she eventually fell asleep clutching a

fog, barefoot, she ran through maze–like alleys, footsteps shadowing her relentlessly. No matter how she tried to escape, she couldn’t shake or outrun it, and suddenly

“Ahh!”

screamed, sitting up abruptly, drenched in a cold sweat as if she had been pulled from

14:25

Chapter 100

the dining room. “Mrs. Dashiell, breakfast is ready. Would you like to have