It was Jerome.


    He stood in front of Remington, his tall figure blocking the way out


    Remington’s eyes were cold as ice, “This is between my wife and me. We’ll discuss it at home. Move”


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    His presence was imposing, like a sword of winter, making most people instinctively avoid


    confrontation.


    But Jerome didn’t budge, his eyebrows slightly raised in challenge.


    “Mr. Dashiell, since you insist on discussing, why not ask Mrs. Dashiell what she thinks right now


    instead of denying her the chance to speak?”


    The air between the two men crackled with an invisible tension, both unyielding.


    Lizetta seized the moment to bite Remington’s hand and pushed him away.


    Breathing heavily, she dered, “I want to join the dance troupe


    Remington’s handsome face tumed cold, his gaze fixed on her as he tried to suppress his anger,


    speaking in a softer tone.


    “You’re pregnant, don’t be rash”


    He reached out for Lizetta, “If you want to dance, you can do so asionally at home. But joining a


    troupe can wait until Joy is born, okay?”


    He tried to grasp Lizetta’s hand, but she stepped back sharply, avoiding his touch.


    She shook her head, determination and coolness in her eyes.


    “This is my decision to make, not yours!”


    Lizetta clenched her fists, her shoulders trembling slightly.


    Standing up to Remington, contradicting him, did not bring the satisfaction she had imagined.


    Instead, it felt like a breakup with years of emotions, her face turning pale.


    Remington’s eyes were deep and cold, clearly not expecting her to publicly refute him, disregarding


    even the facade of a marital rtionship.


    He seemed to be encased in ice, extending his hand to her with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes.


    “Liz,e here, let’s go home. We can discuss the dance troupeter.”


    This was his way ofpromising.


    But Lizetta knew him too well and understood that he was already angry.


    He had already dismissed her wish to join the dance troupe, with his talk of discussion merely a tactic


    to take her home.


    Biting her tongue, she stood her ground.


    Though Remington wasn’t her biological brother, over the years, he had be an authoritative figure


    in her life.


    Lizetta felt weak, her heart sinking


    Her face grew even paler, and she turned her head away, avoiding his gaze.


    Just as she felt a cold sweat on her forehead and a chill down her spine, a jacket was ced around


    her shoulders, bringing warmth.


    It was Jerome.


    Lizetta’s jacket had been taken by Ynda, who then passed it to Hamilton Hamilton, after offering


    Lizetta water and a towel on stage, had handed it to Jerome.


    Jerome adjusted the cor of the jacket and said, “Put this on, don’t catch a cold.”


    Lizetta, slightly startled, instinctively adjusted the jacket and thanked him.


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    “Thank you”


    Jerome nodded, then turned to face Remington.


    By now, Remington’s handsome face was cold, his eyes icy as he chuckled.


    “Mr. Madden, Since when have you be so familiar with my wife?”


    Jerome, unfazed by Remington’s hostility, simply smiled and replied.


    “Not familiar at all. To be honest, Mr. Dashiell, including today, we’ve only met three times, so there’s no


    need for you to be so tense


    no–an


    Remington’s expression softened slightly, only for Jerome to casually add,


    “But those three times were quite memorable. The first time was about four or five years


    ago, right?”


    He looked back at Lizetta, who subconsciously nodded.


    Remington’s fist clenched tighter, his gaze fixed on Lizett, “You’ve known Mr. Madden for four years?


    Why didn’t you tell me?”