The call ended, and Remington reached out once again to grasp Lizetta's hand in his, saying, "Why are your hands still so cold? Do you want to go back to bed and lie down?" Lizetta quickly withdrew her hand, "Thanks for tonight, but you don't have to worry about Hans anymore."

Lizetta was serious about the divorce from Remington, and that meant she couldn't rely on him for everything anymore.

"What do you mean?" Remington's gaze darkened, his jawline tensing.

Lizetta shook her head, standing up to say, "Hans served fourteen years, he's been punished. I'm not a little kid anymore, he can't hurt me now, I..."

"Can't hurt you? Really!"

Remington suddenly interrupted her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards the bathroom.

Lizetta stumbled as he led her into the bathroom and up to the vanity.

"What's gotten into you? Let go..."

Just as Lizetta managed to wrest her wrist from his grasp, Remington moved behind her, stretching his arms out on the vanity.

He trapped her between his body and the vanity, looking down at her sharply through the mirror.

at yourself, pale as a ghost. You call that

at her reflection in the mirror,

more was the sense of oppression from Remington standing so

couples shouldn't

smile, "I wasn't prepared today, it was just a stress reaction. Next time I see him, it won't be like this. Besides, having a bodyguard is enough, you really don't need to do more." Remington suddenly lifted his hand, pinching Lizetta's

Hans than owe me anything more, is

as if he could barely restrain himself

the depth of the psychological shadow Hans had

face Hans without

like a knife, piercing

his eyes, her nod cold and

Remington turned pale with

heaving

control his

when Lizetta thought he'd storm out,

what are you so afraid of in

him, deaning slightly so his deep gaze could scrutinize her, not missing a

hands clenched tightly, "I'm not afraid of anything, don't

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