Once upon a time, no one had ever mentioned this to Lizetta, leaving her stunned as she gazed at Remington.

"You're kidding, right?"

Cradling her face gently, Remington's gaze softened, and a faint smile played on his lips.

"I'm not kidding. When you were a little over two, you visited the Dashiell estate. The servants were frantic, unable to find you anywhere. It wasn't until I came home from school that I discovered you had somehow commandeered my bed.

Liz, you were the first to claim my bed, and so far, the only one. And I intend to keep it that way. Don't you think you owe it to me?"

This revelation made Lizetta's cheeks inexplicably warm.

She figured it must be from the warmth of Remington's palm.

As Remington's smile faded slightly, his voice grew husky.

"When I was eight, my grandfather took me fishing. I wandered off, and by the time I returned, he had collapsed from a heart attack. The delay in finding help... it cost him his life. I locked myself away, overwhelmed with guilt, refusing food and water, shunning everyone's concern..."

since the old man's early demise, the Dashiell family

always assumed it was a simple case of passing

in his painful memories, she instinctively reached out, softly stroking his

to his lips for a gentle

me out

in her

a slight lift at the corners of

"Me?"

your way into my room by accident, you tumbled through the darkness to my side, insisting on holding my hand, urging

away, but you were relentless, coming back to me. You even pulled off the pacifier hanging around your neck, trying to shove it into my mouth, covered in your drool. Liz, see, we've been exchanging

increasingly outrageous tale, Lizetta

his mouth, she retorted,

it, I don't want to hear any of

her hand away,

Dashiell estate, I took you in, not because of

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