Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

Remington had headed back to Oakridge Heights early, pulling up to a stop.

Leaning back in his seat, he was eyeing the villa with a gaze as heavy as the air pressure around him.

The place was pitch–dark, a dead giveaway that Lizetta hadn’t come home again.

He lingered in the car, not getting out, until Cedric piped up. “Mr. Remington? You freaked out Lizetta’s friend at the hospital, she might be steamed. Maybe you should sweet–talk her a bit?”

Remington glanced over. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

“Grab a bouquet? Throw in some sweets, girls dig that stuff. Flowers and treats always cheer them up.”

Cedric felt partly to blame for today’s fiasco and was eager to make amends, throwing out suggestions left and right.

Remington’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Girls also dig jewelry, don’t they?”

He hadn’t forgotten the morning’s episode, where he pushed a jewelry box towards the girl, only to have it chucked squarely at him.

Remington was starting to think his assistant was becoming useless; his skills were going downhill.

Forty minutes later, in the shadows beneath Yolanda’s apartment building.

There he was, in the driver’s seat, with a bunch of gaudy red roses, courtesy of the florist’s hard sell, sitting on the passenger seat. NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

Sixth floor, lights off. Lizetta wasn’t back yet.

He glanced at his watch again, pushing nine o’clock, growing impatient, when he spotted a familiar graceful figure sauntering by with a shopping bag in tow.

Remington reached for the flowers, ready to step out.

Then a tall, lanky guy caught up with Lizetta, taking the shopping bag off her hands with a bend of the waist.

They knew each other, obviously, chatting and laughing as they walked up.

The guy even patted Lizetta on the shoulder, and instead of ducking away, she beamed back at him, all smiles.

Remington’s movements froze, the emotion draining from his eyes.

Next thing he knew, the two chatted for a bit outside the building. Lizetta waved goodbye cheerfully to the guy before taking the bag and heading inside.

The man stepped back, gazing up, watching the lights flick on floor by floor until they hit the sixth, then he turned and left.

Sitting in the car, Remington let out a snort.

She wasn’t ticked off, not by a long shot. She seemed in high spirits, simply not in the mood to come home,

that’s all:

Stepping out, he tossed the roses into the trash bin and drove awa

Before heading home, Lizetta had made a run to the corner store for some necessities and bumped into Granny Susan’s grandson from the neighborhood.

Granny Susan had taken a tumble by the flowerbed a few days back, and Lizetta was the one who found her and called the ambulance.

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Granny Susan’s grandson had been waiting to give her the good news that Granny was stable now. Lizetta was genuinely pleased.

Old folks fainting could lead to big trouble; she could rest easy now.

Once home, she went to pour herself some water and heard a familiar car sound from downstairs.

Lizetta, glass in hand, walked over to the window for a peek.

A sleek black sedan, Remington’s ride, was pulling away smoothly.

She paused for a second, but it was just that–a second. Then, with a cold Indifference, she drew the curtains shut.

The next day, around noon, Remington wrapped up an International meeting and headed back to his office. Right then. Fiona’s call came through.

He sank into his office chair, fingers deftly loosening his tie a notch, and answered the call.

“Grandma.”

“You little rascal, are you asking to be written out of the will? What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into now? Can’t have kids is one thing, but scandals all over the place! Liz hasn’t kicked you to the curb yet, she’s practically a saint!”

Fiona’s booming voice cut through any greetings Remington might have had.

He pulled the phone away slightly, walted for her to finish her tirade, then emotionlessly brought it back to his ear.

“What scandal?”

“Don’t play dumb with me! Are you back at it with that Evelina? There are pictures online, a full–on make–out session in a bar! I’m an old lady who knows how to surf the web, you know!”

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