“If you’ve got something to say, talk with me,” before Remington’s voice trailed off, Lizetta, draped in a


    bathrobe, got up and swiped the phone away.


    Lizetta hopped off the bed and strutted over to the balcony, her voice tight with tension.


    “Is he dead?”


    “He’s been revived and is out of danger, moved to a regr ward.”


    Lucian, standing at the end of the hospital hallway, heard Lizetta’s long sigh of relief through the phone


    and arched his lips upwards, “Feeling better now? Get some rest; I’ll take care of the rest for you.”


    “Thanks, Lucian,” Lizetta, leaning on the railing, let out a relieved smile. No matter what, the guy didn’t


    kick the bucket, and that took a load off her mind.


    Lucian, however, touched his nose, “Did I just rain on your parade with Remi? Remi’s got quite the


    temper. Better hang up now.”


    Before Lizetta could even catch on, the call was ended. Lizetta clutched the phone, her cheeks turned


    a shade of red as she realized Lucian got the wrong end of the stick.


    She turned and walked back into the room, only to find Remington stepping out of the dressing room.


    Stunned by his ready–to–go outfit, she approached him, handing back the phone as she exined, “I


    ran into some bikers today, got mugged, lost my phone and bag. Just now Lucian called to say they


    found my bag.”


    Remington took the phone, seemingly unfazed by the danger she had faced tonight. With a cold face,


    he snatched the phone, tucked it into his suit pocket, and strode off.


    Lizetta caught his sleeve, “Heading out thiste? Oh, did you change the dressing? Let me do it for yo


    you.”


    She hadn’t forgotten her promise to temporarily return to Oakridge Heights was all because of the gash


    on Remington’s arm. Plus, she was a bit scared tonight and wished Remington would stay.


    But Remington pulled his sleeve back, “No need, who doesn’t know how to change a dressing?”


    With that, he didn’t give Lizetta another chance to keep him and walked away with long strides. Lizetta


    watched his fading figure, feeling as cold as she had felt warm in his arms just moments ago.


    This content belongs to N?/velDra/ma.Org .


    Downstairs, a car sound faded into silence.


    Hadn’t he told Lucian that he’d take care of his own wife? Had he forgotten? Lizetta swayed slightly,


    realizing she had been standing frozen for far too long.


    The sound of running water in the bathroom was still going. She stepped inside; the hot water had


    already filled the tub.


    She soaked in a hot bath anyway, lying in bed afterward with her eyes closed, but all she could see


    were unpleasant images.


    The scent of Remington seemed to linger on the pillows and nkets. Tossing and turning, she


    eventually fell asleep clutching a pillow.


    Thick fog, barefoot, she ran through maze–like alleys, footsteps shadowing her relentlessly. No matter


    how she tried to escape, she couldn’t shake or outrun it, and suddenly a bloodied, ghastly face lunged


    out of the mist, choking her.


    “Ahh!”


    Lizetta screamed, sitting up abruptly, drenched in a cold sweat as if she had been pulled from water.


    14:25


    Collecting herself, she went downstairs to find Edith emerging from the dining room. “Mrs. Dashiell,


    breakfast is ready. Would you like to have it now?”


    Lizetta nodded, and Edith pointed to the coffee table, “The two boxes together were sent over by


    Lucian this morning, and the other one beside them is from Mr. Dashiell for you.”


    Lizetta walked over, opening Lucian’s box first- inside was a new purse and a brand–new phone with


    her SIM card already fitted, just like her old model.


    A smile curled on her lips as she wanted to send a message to thank Lucian. As she was about to


    close the app., she instinctively nced at Facebook, and immediately her feed showed Evelina’s post.


    [In this world, when you’re hurt, there’s always someone who feels it more.]


    The photo was of blood–stained gauze, and in thements, Shirley asked.


    [Who’s the one that makes Eve’s heart ache? I know, it’s Remi!]


    As Lizetta recalled Remington’s parting words from the night before about everyone knowing how to


    change the dressing, her lips curled sarcastically, and she logged off Facebook without a trace of


    emotion.


    She didn’t even want to look at the box Remington left, but curiosity got the better of her because of its


    size, and she still lifted the lid.