Shattered Illusions Love Lies and Redemption (Lizetta and Remington) novel Chapter 987

Her hands trembling, Lizetta brewed a cup of tea for Nathan, only to watch him stand up and leave without so much as a sip—or a single word.

She could still remember how she’d anxiously chased him out to the driveway that day, watching as Nathan climbed into his car. Not once did he look back at her.

That kind of cold, absolute disregard had seared itself into her memory; she could recall every detail of that afternoon, even now.

Snapping back to the present, Lizetta was about to step away when Remington suddenly wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Stay right here. There’s no need for you to leave,” he said, his deep voice smooth and unhurried.

Only then did he glance over at Nathan. “Dad, what brings you by? Something on your mind?”

Nathan’s expression soured. It was clear he resented both Lizetta’s deliberate evasion and Remington’s thinly veiled lack of welcome.

“Do I need a reason to visit my own family?” Nathan replied sharply as he made his way to the sofa and sat down.

Remington, still holding Lizetta close, started down the stairs, his tone cool. “Of course not. But Liz and I were just heading out. Stay as long as you like.”

He didn’t pause, leading Lizetta toward the door, but then stopped and looked back. “The housekeeper’s off today. If you’re thirsty, there’s bottled water in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Left standing in the living room, Nathan’s face flushed with anger. He slammed his hand on the table. “Stop right there!”

Remington halted, glancing back. “Is there something else?”

He thought she meant to push him away, but instead, her slender arm slipped behind his back, drawing herself closer until she was wrapped around his waist too.

Remington froze in surprise. Then his lips curved faintly, eyes flicking down to her.

With her arm around him, Lizetta finally turned to Nathan—just in time to see the deepening lines of fury on his brow.

She smiled sweetly. “Mr. Dashiell, if you want to accuse me of being too affectionate, you should at least get it right. This—” she squeezed Remington’s waist, “—is what holding someone looks like. Before, it was just your son who wouldn’t let go of me.”

If Nathan was going to list her supposed misdeeds, she might as well make them count. No way she was going to take the blame for nothing.