Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

She abruptly averted her gaze, refusing to look at the man again.

Afterwards, he tried to strike up a conversation, but Lizetta was listless and unresponsive.

On the flight back, Remington seemed to realize he was unwelcome, as he didn't even stay in the same cabin as Lizetta.

Lizetta was secretly pleased, but halfway through the flight, Ray came to wake her up.

"Ma'am, could you please check on Mr. Remington Dashiell? He's been running a high fever, and now he's delirious."

Lizetta, groggy from sleep, took a moment to fully wake up.

"He's got a fever?"

"Yes, he's been feverish since before boarding. It seems an untreated wound, compounded by your absence, has prevented him from resting properly. He's been suffering from insomnia, which has severely depleted his strength and weakened his immune system..."

When Ray saw Lizetta remaining seated, he urged her again.

"Ma'am, won't you please see him? Even if you and Mr. Remington Dashiell are divorced, he's still your child's father. If not for the sake of old times, then think of his mother. If something serious happens because of the fever, she won't be able to bear it."

Lizetta clenched the armrest tightly.

She stared at Ray. "If he's feverish, give him medication. Don't you have a doctor on board? The crew should be more experienced at handling this than I am."

Ray looked somber. "Mr. Remington Dashiell is usually in excellent health, so we didn't have a medical professional on the private jet. We do have emergency medication, and he's already taken fever reducers, but they're not working. He's been calling out for you. Fever can be affected by emotional state, and we still have over seven hours of flight left. It could become very serious, ma'am. Please, just go see him..."

Eventually, Lizetta was persuaded. She stood up and followed Ray to the rear cabin, where a sofa area had been converted into a makeshift bed.

Remington was lying there, his brow furrowed, an unnatural flush on his handsome face.

Lizetta approached and bent down to touch his forehead. The heat shocked her, and she frowned, about to pull away when he suddenly grasped her wrist tightly.

Lizetta instinctively tried to withdraw, but the man, eyes previously shut, now opened them and gripped her wrist even harder.

Uncontrollably, Lizetta stumbled forward, falling onto him and getting wrapped tightly in his embrace.

"Remington..."

"Liz... you do care after all."

Her annoyance was cut short by his hoarse, fevered voice.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his voice entangling in her ear.

The heat from his breath made Lizetta shiver, her heart seemingly scorched.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

"Remington, you're feverish. Get a hold of yourself."

Lizetta pushed against him, but he

woulet go, instead seeming t

find

comfort in her presence,

nuzzling his face against her neck.

He still held her hand, guiding it to his cheek, and let out a contented sigh, murmuring.

"Liz is my fever reducer. Don't run away!"

Hearing this, Lizetta's eyes unexpectedly teared up.

In the past, when he was feverish, he'd liked to cling to her like this, saying the same thing.

Lizetta stiffened, her numb heart as if opened by Pandora's box,

awakening a painful, indescribat e

swelling.

For a moment, she softened.

But she was grateful to quickly regain her clarity.

She closed her eyes tightly, softening her voice. "Remington, Stella."

yone'm not Liz,!

Remington, "..."