Shattered Illusions Love Lies and Redemption (Lizetta and Remington) novel Chapter 968

When he walked over to the sofa, medical kit in hand, Lizetta was sitting there, her gaze fixed on a painting hanging on the wall—one of Remington’s works.

Among the collection was a piece capturing her mid-dance, utterly beautiful in its execution. Lizetta immediately recognized the costume she’d worn at a university competition: a flowing gown that seemed to defy gravity. In the painting, she was caught in a high leap, her movement so light and effortless it was as if she were truly flying.

Those competitions were etched into her memory. Remington hadn’t been there—at least, he’d said he wasn’t. So how could he have painted this? The details were so precise, even the subtlest nuances of her posture and expression were perfectly rendered. No one could have painted this without seeing it firsthand.

As if sensing her confusion, Remington opened the kit, took out a bottle of liniment, and spoke quietly, as though answering her unspoken question.

“I was there that day.”

Lizetta blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing.

“If you were there, why didn’t you show up? Wait, I remember—I won first prize, I called you right after, but you said you were busy and hung up.”

Her tone was accusing. Remington’s gaze darkened, something unreadable simmering behind his eyes.

“Lucian Dashiell was there too,” he said, his voice low. “He had a huge bouquet of roses with him.”

So that was it. That explained why Remington had come, then slipped away without a word, never telling her he’d seen the performance.

She’d been seventeen then. A brother coming to watch his sister perform shouldn’t have been complicated. But Remington hadn’t gone as her brother, and that was why, upon seeing Lucian in the front row, clutching those white roses, he’d quietly left. No explanations, no goodbyes.

Even now, Lizetta could recall the disappointed ache she’d felt waiting for him that night. She shot Remington a glare, exasperated.

“The roses were for Professor Daisynes, my mentor. She adores white roses, and Lucian was just holding them for me. They weren’t for me, okay?”

Remington knew that now, of course, but back then he’d completely misunderstood. He’d been certain Lucian was there to sweep Lizetta off her feet.

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