Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

But back in the day, she got pricked by her mom Jolin Gardenia with a needle and it left her with some serious mental scars. She tried to get her ears pierced three times and chickened out every time, yet she was green with envy seeing others rock some snazzy studs

Remington was off studying in Astoria and somehow caught wind of this. He came back for Christmas and, out of the blue, whipped out an ear piercing gun, claiming it was just a toy, and duped her into giving it a whirl-

The guy brushed her hair aside, the gun aimed at her lobes, and before she knew it -bam, bam- she had pierced ears.

Fuming, she chased after him swinging her fists, “I hate you, Remi!”

He turned around, she stumbled into his arms, and under the warm sun, he bent down and tenderly wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes.

“Little Liz, such a drama queen.”

Later on, Remington went all out and had the world–renowned designer Jonathan whip up a custom pair of earrings just for her.

A masterpiece, starting at six figures, no less. She wasn’t one for bling, but she wore those earrings for ten years straight, never taking them off.

A decade. She’d think something that felt like a part of her, in her flesh and blood, would be excruciating to let go. Turned out, not so much.

On the big screen at the street corner, some gossip news was playing, and a reporter cornered Evelina at the airport, grilling her about her love life.

“Yeah, there’s a guy I’m mad about. We split over a misunderstanding four years ago, but I believe true lovers will eventually reunite.”

She turned to the guy next to her with a smile, and the gutsy reporter shoved the mic his way.

“Mr. Dashiell, are you the man Ms. Hawthorne is head over heels for?”

The guy signaled his bodyguard to step up, and with a protective hand, he whisked Evelina away.

Lizetta looked away, a sarcastic smile on her lips. Happily ever after, how lovely

Turned out, as usual, the wife was the last to know when the hubby strayed

Just then, the driver piped up. “Miss, there’s a car tailing us, someone after you?”

Lizetta glanced back, a black Bentley on their tail with a license plate too bold to ignore. In a blink, the Bentley sped up, tires screeching in a drift, blocking their way.

The driver slammed the brakes; Lizetta lurched forward, then snapped back by the seatbelt, her head spinning.

Then came the tapping on the window. Deliberate and rhythmic, it struck a chord in Lizetta’s heart. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Her knuckles went white gripping the seatbelt, refusing to look over.

Remington’s lips barely parted, his gaze sweeping towards the driver, who, caught in that icy stare, felt like prey under the gaze of an alpha wolf and quickly unlocked the door.

The door swung open, and Remington leaned inside.

With a click, he yanked off her seatbelt, his hand pressing against the inside of the seat, his eyes piercing into

Lizetta

He was so close she thought he might kiss her, but all he did was sneer, “Lizetta, playing possum? That fun for you?”

Lizetta. Since that night, he hadn’t called her “Liz” with that affectionate tone, nor had he let her call him “Remi“.

A dull ache in her chest, Lizetta turned her head, “Playing possum sure beats your time–management show.”

Her voice was hoarse, and without another word, Remington scooped her out of the car.

“Let go!” She struggled.

“Chill out!” His grip on her hip was firm and unyielding, as if scorching her skin; she fell silent.

“What’s with the foot?” His voice was deep.

Lizetta slipped off her flats, revealing a bandaged foot stained with blood. She stayed quiet; Remington’s expression turned dark as he stuffed her into the backseat and folded himself in alongside her.

The door slam shut, the cramped space filled with his brooding presence.

Lizetta barely moved when his hand reached over, brushing her hair aside, his intense gaze landing on her now empty earlobe, suddenly sharp.

“Where are the earrings?”

He pinched her soft lobe, twisting it cruelly.

“Ouch, lost them,” Lizetta winced in pain.

Remington let go, took hold of her chin, and forced her to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye, Lizetta saw the taxi speeding away around the corner; taking with it was her broken heart.

Remington’s voice was laced with anger, “Lost it? What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

Tears welled up in Lizetta’s eyes, her voice steady, “Lost it means I don’t want it anymore! Remington Dashiell, I’m not joking, and it’s not just a spat. Let’s get a divorce.”

She didn’t want the earrings he gave her! And she didn’t want him either!