Lizetta couldn't believe her ears.
What did Remington just say? He said he loved her? How could that be possible?!
Lizetta thought, perhaps the saddest thing in the world was finally hearing what she'd longed for, only to be filled with doubt and bitterness instead of joy. Without the anticipation, his words could no longer move her. Lizetta lowered her head and slowly unwrapped his arms from around her waist.
"Stop joking. If your love means constantly hurting and disappointing me, then it's a cheap kind of love I can't even bother with."
With those words, Lizetta walked away, never looking back.
Remington didn't try to stop her. His jaw clenched tight, his handsome face seemed to be coated in ice, covering the turmoil within.
He watched her determined departure, his profound gaze growing even darker, as if no light could penetrate it.
So, this was what it felt like to muster the courage to confess love, only to be doubted; to not be believed by the one he loved felt suffocating.
When Lizetta arrived at City Hall, the gloomy sky finally unleashed a flurry of snowflakes. Perhaps due to the weather, it was unusually quiet at the entrance.
Lizetta had asked Camille to bring over the necessary documents. Camille was already there, and she even brought Lizetta a thick coat.
As Lizetta approached, Camille quickly took the coat from the servant and wrapped it around her, adding a scarf for good measure.
"Thanks, Camille. I'm sorry about your face. It's all because of me," Camille's cheek still bore the mark of a slap, and Lizetta was full of regret.
Camille patted her, "It wasn't you who hit me, no need to apologize. Besides, if Lucian hadn't been so protective and impulsive, Yolanda wouldn't have fallen trying to save Hanna and Evelina. Liz, don't take everything upon yourself; it'll exhaust you."
Lizetta felt a lump in her throat but nodded, "I'll go on ahead then."
"Okay."
Turning, Lizetta eyed the Maybach parked not far away.
Remington's car had been following her since she left the hospital, but he hadn't stepped out yet.
Lizetta wasn't sure if Remington was waiting for someone to bring him the documents.
The car windows were up, shielding the man inside from view. Seeing no movement, Lizetta had no choice but to walk over.
She knocked on the car window, and the man slowly rolled it down, his profile as noble and refined as ever.
The vulnerability he'd shown in the hospital corridor was nowhere to be seen. This, Lizetta thought, was the real Remington - his professed love, utterly false.
Standing outside, separated by the snow, she looked at him, "Mr. Dashiell, have you got all the documents ready?"
Remington locked eyes with her, but his response veered off-topic, "The year you came to the Dashiell family, it was snowing like this, very similar to now." Lizetta frowned; she had no patience for these. All she wanted was to finalize their divorce and return to the hospital to be with Yoli.
"Mr. Dashiell, our current situation doesn't suit poetic musings. Please, let's make this quick."
Remington's expression darkened instantly, his gaze on Lizetta turning frosty. His lips parted slightly, his voice cold.
"Lizetta, that year, you were injured, looking up at me, clutching at my pant leg begging me to take you in. I took you in, and you became mine!
Today, you think you can just leave? My place isn't some shelter where you come and go as you please!"
Lizetta was stunned, staring at him in disbelief.
"What do you mean?!"
Remington's lips arched upwards, "I will never let you go!"
Lizetta gasped, clenching her fists, and swung at his shameless face. But he caught her slim wrist, pulling her close until she was half-leaning against the car.
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