Ste copsed to the ground, utterly drained. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and pleaded, her voice hoarse.


    "Dad, if you lock me up for two days, I''ll be a mess at the anniversary g. I''ll lose this one chance to shine."


    Only then did Martin slowly lower his hand.


    The two bodyguards gripping Ste''s arms immediately let go and stepped back. She choked out her gratitude, voice trembling.


    "Thank you, Dad."


    Martin patted her cheek, his tone stern. "Don''t let me down again.”


    ***


    Oakridge Heights.


    When Remington returned, Lizetta was still asleep in the king-sized bed. She seemed so small and fragile, curled up as if trying to make herself invisible, her long, thick hair spilling across the pillow in wild disarray.


    He paused in the doorway, watching her for a moment, almost uncertain if she was real. He was afraid to wake her or maybe it was himself he feared would wake, as though this scene was nothing but a dream.


    "What are you staring at?"


    Lizetta, who had been feigning sleep, finally gave up the act and cracked open her eyes, her voice drowsy.


    Remington seemed to snap out of his reverie and met her sleepy,nguid gaze. A faint smile yed at his lips.


    "At you. I can''t get enough. You''re beautiful."


    The bluntness of his words sent a fresh flush across Lizetta''s already rosy cheeks. She shot him a yful re.


    "Then take your time and enjoy the view."


    With that, she rolled over, turning her back to him.


    Remington chuckled softly and stepped further into the room.


    He stopped by the sitting area, poured a ss of water for Lizetta, and then came to sit beside her on the bed.


    He gently pinched her warm, blushing cheek. "Have some water before you drift back to sleep?"


    But Lizetta was already wide awake. She propped herself up and took the ss from him, ncing at the clock.


    She''d been asleep for over two hours. Still groggy, she mumbled, “I remember I was putting ointment on the sofa..."


    Remington picked up the thread, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Yes, I took such good care of you, Florence, that you fell right asleep."


    Lizetta blushed again, a bit


    embarrassed. She hadn''t expected to doze off while Remington was tending to her back. When had she be sofortable around him? Was it because they were at Qakridge Heights, the house that


    used to be their home-the one ce she still felt she belonged, still felt safe?


    She took a long sip of water, using it as an excuse to hide her conflicted expression.


    Her hair tumbled forward, half-hiding her face as she bowed her head.


    Remington instinctively reached out to smooth her tangled hair, and for once, Lizetta didn''t pull away. She let him.


    But just then, a faint whiff of unfamiliar perfume clung to his shirt. Lizetta hesitated for a split second, took another sip of water, then asked as if it were an afterthought,


    "Did you go out?”


    "Yeah, I stopped by the Miller estate."


    Lizetta blinked. "The Millers?"


    She studied him for a moment, and understanding dawned.


    So that''s where the unfamiliar scent came from—a woman''s perfume picked up at


    the Miller family''s house.


    Relief washed over her, but


    frustration quickly followed. After


    everything they''d been the easily stub...


    was still so rattled


    incapable of brushing these things


    off.  s?novels


    The smallest clue—a trace of perfume, a vague suspicion—immediately set her on


    edge.


    It was proof that, despite everything, there still wasn''t enough trust between them.