Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption ( Lizetta )

Chapter 110 

Was this what they called no talent? Just average? 

Evelina wasn’t fool; she insisted on Lizetta’s tunes even if it cost her 200 grand per play. 

Yolanda was fuming, pounding the bed, “The haters don’t even bother to get to know your before they start throwing shade! Ugh! I feel like grabbing a kitchen knife and going after that Bitch Evelina!” 

Lizetta tried to calm her down, “Chill, I’m not even sweating it.” 

Was anyone made of stone here? Could one really brush off getting dragged by so many people? 

Grabbing her phone, Yolanda said, “I gotta check if that trending topic was paid for, see if we can get it pulled down.” 

Yolanda had got some clout, studying at the film academy and always on movie sets. She got the lowdown pretty quick, hung up, and got even more pissed. 

Lizetta had a hunch, “Remington’s doing?” 

Yolanda’s eyes were blazing, “The Dashiell Group ordered the hit. They want it up for two days, no takedowns allowed.” 

Lizetta saw this coming. How else would a arranger like her hit the trending topics and catch so much flak without someone pulling strings? 

“Liz, stop smiling. If you wanna cry, just cry it out. You holding it in is freaking me out,” Yolanda gave her a hug. 

Lizetta was not made of steel. These past four years with Remington sitting on his hands, she’d weathered her share of high society’s whispers and even battled mild depression a couple years back, finally clawing her way out of it. 

“I’m fine. I’ve had my fair share of face–to–face slander, so why should online hate faze me? Besides, not everyone gets to be infamous, right?” 

“But you cared so much about this account; you always kept it clean, never cashing in on it, treating it like a haven for your music world. And now Evelina’s trashed it!” 

Lizetta’s eyes flickered, her expression distant for a moment before she cracked a slight smile, “Yolanda, do you know how I came up with the name ‘Adagio‘?” 

Yolanda shook her head; Lizetta never told her. 

Lizetta curled her lips slightly, “That stormy night fourteen years ago, when Remington brought me into the Dashiell family, the lyric playing on the phonograph had ‘Adagio‘ in the lines.” 

So, the sanctuary you’re guarding isn’t your dream of music and dance, but Remington? Yolanda’s voice trembled. 

Lizetta’s eyes curved with a smile, a mix of relief and desolation. 

“Yeah, see, now he’s personally shattered it. Full circle, it’s fate. It’s all good.” 

She was smiling, but Yolanda felt she was breaking inside. Who knew if Remington would regret it one day. 

Just as Yolanda was pondering this, Lizetta’s phone rang. It was Cedric. Lizetta frowned, hesitated, but answered anyway. After all, Cedric never wronged her. 

“Cedric?” 

But it was a familiar, deep, magnetic male voice that came through, “Unblock me! And come to the office.” 

Lizetta frowned, “Remington, I’m not your employee now, nor your sister anymore. What right do you have to order me around?” 

“As 

your husband, Mrs. Dashiell!” 

A wave of emotion hit Lizetta, her grip tightening on the phone. All those days she waited for him, he never acknowledged her status. Now that she was letting go, he was throwing “Mrs. Dashiell” around like it was some kind of joke. 

“A husband doesn’t act like you do! And I don’t want to be your Mrs. Dashiell anymore,” her voice steadied, and she hung up. 

In the Starlight Group President’s office. 

Remington watched the call end, a flicker of frustration crossing his brows. 

Cedric stood at the desk, hardly daring to breathe. He was fixated on his phone, noticing the expression worsen when he saw Lizetta hadn’t blocked him, and now the boss’s pride was wounded. 

“Worried about your phone?” Remington’s voice was cool. 

Cedric instinctively responded, “New phone. I mean, I’m worried that being upset is not good for your health.” 

Remington’s features chilled further, Cedric clammed up, sensing he’d said the wrong thing again. 

But as he was sweating bullets, Remington was back to normal, tossing the phone back to him, along with a stack of papers from the desk. 

“Get out.” 

That stack was information on the three most famous dance troupes in Zion City, all 

prepped for Mrs, Dashiell, connections already made. Just picked one, and the meet the troupe leader directly. Such a shame to pack it away. 

Cedric hesitated, and then offered, “Boss, should I take these papers to Mrs. Dashwelth