Was this what they called no talent? Just average?


    Evelina wasn’t fool; she insisted on Lizetta’s tunes even if it cost her 200 grand per y.


    Ynda was fuming, pounding the bed, “The haters don’t even bother to get to know your before they


    start throwing shade! Ugh! I feel like grabbing a kitchen knife and going after that Bitch Evelina!”


    Lizetta tried to calm her down, “Chill, I’m not even sweating it.”


    Was anyone made of stone here? Could one really brush off getting dragged by so many people?


    Grabbing her phone, Ynda said, “I gotta check if that trending topic was paid for, see if we can get it


    pulled down.”


    Ynda had got some clout, studying at the film academy and always on movie sets. She got the


    lowdown pretty quick, hung up, and got even more pissed.


    Lizetta had a hunch, “Remington’s doing?”


    Ynda’s eyes were zing, “The Dashiell Group ordered the hit. They want it up for two days, no


    takedowns allowed.”


    Lizetta saw thising. How else would a arranger like her hit the trending topics and catch so much


    k without someone pulling strings?


    “Liz, stop smiling. If you wanna cry, just cry it out. You holding it in is freaking me out,” Ynda gave


    her a hug.


    Lizetta was not made of steel. These past four years with Remington sitting on his hands, she’d


    weathered her share of high society’s whispers and even battled mild depression a couple years back,


    finally wing her way out of it.


    “I’m fine. I’ve had my fair share of face–to–face nder, so why should online hate faze me? Besides,


    not everyone gets to be infamous, right?”


    “But you cared so much about this ount; you always kept it clean, never cashing in on it, treating it


    like a haven for your music world. And now Evelina’s trashed it!”


    Lizetta’s eyes flickered, her expression distant for a moment before she cracked a slight smile,


    “Ynda, do you know how I came up with the name ‘Adagio‘?”


    Ynda shook her head; Lizetta never told her.


    Lizetta curled her lips slightly, “That stormy night fourteen years ago, when Remington brought me into


    the Dashiell family, the lyric ying on the phonograph had ‘Adagio‘ in the lines.”


    So, the sanctuary you’re guarding isn’t your dream of music and dance, but Remington? Ynda’s


    voice trembled.


    Lizetta’s eyes curved with a smile, a mix of relief and destion.


    “Yeah, see, now he’s personally shattered it. Full circle, it’s fate. It’s all good.”


    She was smiling, but Ynda felt she was breaking inside. Who knew if Remington would regret it one


    day.


    Just as Ynda was pondering this, Lizetta’s phone rang. It was Cedric. Lizetta frowned, hesitated, but


    answered anyway. After all, Cedric never wronged her.


    “Cedric?”


    But it was a familiar, deep, maic male voice that came through, “Unblock me! Ande to the


    office.”


    Lizetta frowned, “Remington, I’m not your employee now, nor your sister anymore. What right do you


    have to order me around?”


    “As


    your husband, Mrs. Dashiell!”


    A wave of emotion hit Lizetta, her grip tightening on the phone. All those days she waited for him, he


    never acknowledged her status. Now that she was letting go, he was throwing “Mrs. Dashiell” around


    like it was some kind of joke.


    “A husband doesn’t act like you do! And I don’t want to be your Mrs. Dashiell anymore,” her voice


    steadied, and she hung up.


    In the Starlight Group President’s office.


    Remington watched the call end, a flicker of frustration crossing his brows.


    Cedric stood at the desk, hardly daring to breathe. He was fixated on his phone, noticing the


    expression worsen when he saw Lizetta hadn’t blocked him, and now the boss’s pride was wounded.


    “Worried about your phone?” Remington’s voice was cool.


    Cedric instinctively responded, “New phone. I mean, I’m worried that being upset is not good for your


    health.”


    Remington’s features chilled further, Cedric mmed up, sensing he’d said the wrong thing again.


    But as he was sweating bullets, Remington was back to normal, tossing the phone back to him, along


    with a stack of papers from the desk.


    “Get out.”


    That stack was information on the three most famous dance troupes in Zion City, all


    N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    prepped for Mrs, Dashiell, connections already made. Just picked one, and the meet the troupe leader


    directly. Such a shame to pack it away.


    Cedric hesitated, and then offered, “Boss, should I take these papers to Mrs. Dashwelth