Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

Over the past two years, though Hanna knew full well that Remington never came home, she still kept feeding her those bitter tonic brews that were supposed to help with childbirth, just to torment her.

Lizetta, in love with Remington, wanted to manage their marriage and her relationship with her mother– in–law well, enduring everything that came her way.

Now that Remington was the one being fed the soup, Lizetta couldn’t care less.

She turned her head away, pretending not to see.

Remington immediately received a “useless thing” look from Fiona.

Remington couldn’t help but chuckle, “Alright, Grandma, I’ll drink it all, making sure not a drop is wasted–your kind intentions are not in vain.”

He was talking to the old lady, but his eyes never left Lizetta, biting off his words with a hint of something

more.

Lizetta felt a shiver down her spine under his gaze, thinking to herself that Remington and Hanna were truly mother and son. Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

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Caught between their glares, it felt like being between ice and fire at the same time she couldn’t even taste a thing she ate.

That evening, as Remington pushed the bedroom door open, he saw Lizetta standing in front of the wardrobe.

She slammed the wardrobe shut, looking overly startled.

Remington’s eyes narrowed slightly as he stepped forward.

“Got a lover hiding inside?”

He reached for the handle, but Lizetta, freaked out, held it tight, “Don’t open it!”

Lizetta’s overreaction just made it seem more as though there was a lover hidden in there..

Remington pushed gently, and her feeble attempt to stop him was utterly futile. The wardrobe doors swung. open to reveal.

A variety of colorful, skimpy lingerie, pajamas, and some unexpectedly racy costumes.

Lizetta’s face flushed, “I didn’t buy these!”

She had clothes here at the old house before; Lizetta hadn’t expected that this time she came back, all her proper clothes would be gone from the wardrobe.

As she tried to shut the wardrobe, Remington held the doors open.

“Planning to run around naked after your bath without taking anything, or expecting me to bring you something mid–shower? Quite scheming.”

Lizetta was speechless, “I’ll go find my old clothes.”

How had she never noticed before that Remington was such an imaginative type?

Remington grabbed her shoulder, “Naive, do you really think you’ll find them?”

The clothes must have been prepared by the old lady, all set up so Lizetta wouldn’t find anything wearable

Lizetta, annoyed, glared at Remington.

How useless was he to let the old lady go to such lengths?

Remington probably knew what she was thinking; his handsome face was cold, his deep eyes unemotional, and his thin lips mercilessly said,

“Pick whatever, whatever you wear is all the same to me.”

He might as well have written his disinterest in her on his face.

Lizetta grabbed the most conservative piece she could find, “This is the first time I’ve seen someone beat around the bush about being blind.”

She pushed the man away and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with a bang.

After washing up and changing, Lizetta looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. The piece she had chosen, although it had the most fabric, turned out to be a nurse’s outfit.

But it covered all the necessary places, anyway. Such attire might be provocative to some, but Remington was as indifferent as a block of iron; what was there to fear?

In her mind, Lizetta repeated to herself three times that Remington was frigid, feeling morally protected instantly as she walked out the door.

Remington was leaning against the headboard dealing with emails on his tablet. He glanced up casually and his knuckles tightened around the device, silently tensing.

The white nurse’s outfit fit tightly, hugging her slender waist, with her curves clearly outlined. The skirt was super short, barely covering her backside.

Lizetta’s beauty was striking, with her raven hair, red lips, delicate yet radiant features. Her years of dancing contributed to her excellent figure, unbelievable proportions, and her pristine aura.

Those creamy, long legs in the short skirt were absolutely captivating.

He now understood why it was called lingerie; it was the attire that could instantly arouse a man’s desire, making him want to tear it apart within moments.

A heat built up in Remington’s throat, his Adam’s apple rolling subtly as he quickly looked away.

He put down the tablet and said, “I’m going to shower, you go to sleep first.”

Although Lizetta had mentally prepared herself, she was still too embarrassed to look up when she came out. By the time she did, upon hearing his voice, the man had already brushed past her, emotionlessly entering the bathroom.

This is what they call frigid?

More like impotence!

Suddenly, a muffled thunder sounded outside, and Lizetta quickly walked to the bed, lifted the blanket, and lay down.

In the steamy bathroom, Remington closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. However, the gentle fragrance of gardenias, accompanied by the steam, wafted directly into his nostrils.

That was the scent of Lizetta, who had always used gardenia–scented shower gel,