"I''m really fine. Just let me out of the car already."


    Lizetta had barely settled into her seat when he suddenly scooped her up with ease.


    Before she could even process what was happening, she found herself perched securely on his strongp. In one smooth motion, he tugged her silk blouse free from her skirt and pushed it up, exposing her waist.


    "You don''t get to decide if you''re fine or not. Let me take a look. I''ll let you out if there''s really nothing wrong. Why are you so anxious, anyway?"


    He lowered his gaze, a knowing glint in his eyes as he studied her. "Or is your mind wandering somece... less innocent?"


    Lizetta shot him a re, certain he was twisting things around on purpose. Annoyed, she snapped, "If you''re going to check, hurry up and check already."


    Remington raised a brow. "Well, aren''t you suddenly cooperative?"


    Lizetta didn''t bother to dignify that with a response. He really did have something to say about everythingpletely infuriating.


    He couldn''t help but notice the way frustration puffed out her cheeks, how her delicate features somehow bnced girlish charm with a woman''s allure. His gaze darkened for a moment before he forced himself to look away.


    But as soon as he saw the angry bruise blossoming across her waist, whatever teasing spark remained in his eyes instantly vanished, reced by concern and a chill that lingered in the air.


    "How did you even manage this? And you call this ''nothing''?"


    "It''s really not a big deal. I just bumped into the corner of a table, that''s all. It barely hurts-ouch!"


    Before she could finish, his palm pressed gently over the bruise. He didn''t use any force at all, but even the lightest touch made her wince and cut off her protest.


    Remington let out a quiet sigh. “You need to massage it out, otherwise you''ll be stuck in bed tomorrow."


    Without waiting for her input, he called out to Cedric, instructing him to drive.


    Half an hourter, Lizetta was back at Oakridge Heights, led inside by Remington. Returning here felt surreal, as if she''d stepped into another lifetime.


    Yet Oakridge Heights looked almost exactly as she remembered.


    No, not exactly. Some things had changed.


    Little details stood out-new paintings on the wall, unmistakably Remington''s own work.


    And on the tables, instead of the usual collection of Remington''s auction treasures-ceramics, jade ormemorative models from the Starlight Group there were how art pieces that clearly reflected ber


    taste. .


    A low table by the floor-to-ceiling window held a vase of soft green roses, arranged


    just as she had left them long ago.


    Every


    shape Ch of this home had been


    shaped by her hands, filled with h her careful attention and love for the life they shared.


    And now, these subtle changes felt like quiet answers to the hopes and wishes she''d once tucked away in every corner.


    A strange ache welled up inside her; she stood frozen in ce, unable to take another step.


    "What, nning to stand there all


    you don''t


    night? Been gone so long you recebinize the ce enyimpress Remington''s voice sounded behind her, deep andced with teasing.


    She turned, ncing at him. "You''ve been living here this whole time?"


    He gave her a puzzled look. "Where else would I live?"


    He owned plenty of properties, but Oakridge Heights was their home.


    It was the ce where, after their wedding, she had waited for him toe home each night.


    And it was the home he''d always believed she would find her way back to if he just kept waiting.


    "I''m going to get the first-aid kit. Be good and lie down on the couch for me, okay?"


    He reached out, ruffling her hair gently before heading across the room to the cab where the medicine was kept.