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"Sorry."
The mom with the child was visibly intimidated, holding the child and speaking with a pale face.
Stella stepped out from behind Remington, her voice gentle.
"Remington, don't be like this. He's just a kid."
She moved closer, speaking softly to the crying child.
"Hey, little buddy, it's okay. I just got a little hurt, there's nothing scary. How about | treat you with sice
cream next time, huh?"
But the kid only burrowed deeper into his mom's embrace, crying even harder.
The embarrassed mother quickly left with the child in her arms.
Turning around, Stella's face briefly clouded with sadness before she forced a smile.
"It's nothing, really. I'm used to it."
Yet, her hand trembled slightly in Remington's grip.
Remington felt a pang of guilt, and his brow remained frowned.
"That beast. | swear I'll find him and make him pay," he said, his voice low and determined.
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Of the two people who kidnapped them back then, one died, and the other, the one who cut off Stella's fingers,
fled the country and hasn't been found since. Stella nodded, "I believe in you."
Remington released Stella's hand and turned around, only to realize that there was no one behind him.
Lizetta, who had been there just moments before, was already gone.
His heart felt empty, and he suddenly felt panicked.
Turning around, he quickly headed towards the elevator, as Stella called out.
"Remington, my mom's still in surgery, aren't you going to stay?"
He didn't look back, only replied in a deep voice, "I'll be back later."
Stella stood still, watching his hurried departure until his figure disappeared, then she lowered her head and
looked at her injured fingers absentmindedly.
When Lizetta stepped out of the elevator, her expression was very calm.
The scene just now seemed to be imprinted in her mind, repeating itself in her mind.
It wasn't surprising, nor was it heartbreaking. She should have expected it.
After all, when Eileen was mistakenly brought back as Stella, Remington had shown her such care and attention.
She should have seen it clearly and been prepared for it.
But she felt extremely uncomfortable in her heart.
It wasn't jealousy or sadness; it was revulsion.
E1
After all, here was the man who professed to love her while refusing to , yet showed such de
compassion for another woman.
Any woman would find that hard to stomach.
Lizetta pulled out an alcohol wipe and meticulously cleaned her hands, then turned to find a trash can. Turning
her gaze, she saw Remington standing behind her.
The man stood tall and imposing, his handsface illuminated by a light overhead, his
exhe face illuminated b
beam
expression intimidating, his eyes dark and brooding.
Instinctively, Lizetta turned and ran.
But before she could take two steps, Remington grabbed her right arm.
"Ah!"
Lizetta turned around, throwing the wet wipe at his face in a panic.
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The dirty wipe hit his nose and fell to the ground.
Remington's eyes were cold, his lips curled in a sneer, "Disgusted by me?"
His hands had just been held and rubbed by him.
Lizetta looked back at him, feeling the chilling aura emanating from him, and her rationality told her not to
confront him. But she couldn't help but retort.
"Yes! Mr. Dashiell, if you are so self-aware, then let go!"
Her words ignited his anger.
Remington pulled her close, trapping her in his embrace, and lifted her chin without hesitation, then kissed her
fiercely. "Mmph!" Lizetta bit him hard.
Almost immediately, there was a taste of blood between their lips.
But the
seemed to have no pain
receptors, he gripped the back of her deepening the kiss, with no
e from her whatsoever. B
He infused her with his breath, stole her sweetness, and controlled her heartbeat and breath before letting her
go.
"Disgusted?" The man's dark eyes flashed dangerously.
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