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.
"Look at yourself, pale as a ghost. You call that not being hurt?"
Lizetta frowned at her reflection in the mirror, indeed looking disheveled.
But what concerned her more was the sense of oppression from Remington standing so close behind her, enveloping her entirely.
Divorced couples shouldn't be like this.
She managed a stubborn 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 chin.
"So, you'd rather face Hans than owe me anything more, is that it?"
His eyes stung slightly, his jaw tense, as if he could barely restrain himself from choking her.
He knew the depth of the psychological shadow Hans had cast over Lizetta better than anyone.
Now she'd rather face Hans without his help.
This fact was like a knife, piercing his heart with both pain and cold.
Lizetta looked up into his eyes, her nod cold and clear, "We're divorced, it's my issue now."
Remington turned pale with anger, his chest heaving slightly as he struggled to control his emotions.
Just when Lizetta thought he'd storm out, he suddenly narrowed his eyes.
"Lizetta, what are you so afraid of in your hurry to distance yourself from me?"
As he spoke, he turned her around to face him, leaning slightly so his deep gaze could scrutinize her, not missing a flicker of her emotional shifts including the brief flash of panic in her eyes. Lizetta's hands clenched tightly, "I'm not afraid of anything, don't flatter yourself!"
Remington's lips curved into a slight smile, his voice low and magnetic, "Flatter myself about what?"
His teasing gaze made Lizetta push him away hastily and head towards the door.
Frowning and biting her lip, she realized she might have given herself away with her hasty rebuttal.
Watching her retreat somewhat frantically, Remington's eyes gleamed with amusement.
He followed her, but by then Lizetta had already entered the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Left outside, Remington didn't seem upset.
Leaning against the door, his voice carried through, tinged with a smile.
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