Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

Remington's gaze was heavy with sadness, yet he didn't move aside.

"Can't you wait even a single day?"

Lizetta barely had any energy left, practically forcing herself to get up. She didn't have the strength to argue with Remington.

Yolanda, supporting her, felt Lizetta was like a leaf in the autumn, devoid of any strength.

The Lizetta of the past was not like this. Though slender, she was in good health.

She could dance for hours on end, effortlessly. But now...

Yolanda was filled with pity and snapped, "Isn't it obvious? Being married to a guy like you is like having a guillotine hanging over your head, never knowing when it'll fall and strike her again. Every minute is torture! Cut the crap and get on with it!"

However, Remington seemed to ignore Yolanda's words completely, treating her as if she were thin air.

He bent down, forcefully picked Lizetta up, and strode towards the hospital room.

"What are you doing?! Remington, if you have any conscience, let her go!"

"Ray!"

Yolanda, fuming, tried to intercept him, but Remington coldly said,

Ray quickly stepped in, soon taking Yolanda out of the room and shutting the door behind them.

Yolanda was on the verge of exploding, struggling against Ray at the door.

Ray said sternly, "Ms. Yolanda, we've lost the baby, and Mr. Remington Dashiell is also grieving. The priority now is to ensure the lady's health. She didn't get proper postpartum care, and if her health fails, I'm sure you wouldn't want to see that either. If you truly care for her well-being, try not to fuel the fire."

Thinking back to when she was helping Lizetta change her clothes, seeing Lizetta break out in a cold sweat, Yolanda bit her lip, frustrated, and sat down outside the room, arms crossed.

Inside the room.

Lizetta was laid back on the hospital bed, and Remington bent down to remove her shoes, then grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off her forehead.

"Remington, are you trying to make me hate you more?" Lizetta's voice was weak, her heart feeling powerless.

But his movements didn't stop, nor did his expression change, as if he had grown accustomed to her cold words.

He wiped her face, firmly supported the back of her head, making her look up.

Lizetta recoiled from his touch, struggling briefly. Remington said coldly,

"At this point, I really don't mind if you hate me more! Hatred, to me, is better than indifference or numbness." Saying this, he forcefully lifted her into his arms.

"So, Liz, don't fight me on this. I don't mind getting tough!"

Lizetta was gasping for air, her eyes gradually reddening with tears.

Remington softly stroked her tear-stained eyes, his voice becoming gentler, "First, take care of your health. Otherwise, you won't be able to do anything, not even hate me properly."

Lizetta didn't want to look at him and closed her eyes.

Remington then lifted her chin with the tower, wiping off the sweat from her neck as well, and tidied here disheveled hair, tucking it behind her ears.

He finally placed her back on the bed, pulling the covers over her.

Watching the woman who refused to utter a word or even glance at him, Remington's eyes darkened.

He put the towel back, saying, "I'll have someone bring in some food. Eat something."

"I won't eat! Save your effort." Lizetta turned away, filled with hatred.

Even now, he was forcing her, refusing to let her go, trapping her.

In her eyes and heart, he was no longer a brother, a protector, a source of light and warmth.

He had become the devil, a cage, the root of all her pain!

Remington, observing her curled-up frail body, clenched his fists and said,

"Eat well, and I'll make the call to

the divorce. Miss this

and don't blame me for

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Lizetta stiffened for a moment, then opened her eyes to look at him.