NovelAppRemington fixed Martin with a cool gaze.
"Godfather really has no clue?"
Martin's face twisted in anger, "Clue about what?"
Remington didn't elaborate, simply nodding towards the door, "Let's go inside and have Barbara spell it out."
He reached out, gently grasping Lizetta's wrist through her clothing, leading her towards the villa.
Lizetta glanced down, noting that Remington had finally grasped the concept of personal space, holding her wrist
rather than her hand, and she didn't resist. Inside the West family living room, Stella was a bundle of jittery
nerves, excitement tinged with unease.
She had overheard a snippet of Remington's conversation in his office yesterday.
Remington had been arguing with Lizetta, and later, Mr. Barlow had dropped by with divorce papers for
Remington to sign, on behalf of The Starlight Group.
After Mr. Barlow left, Stella had "accidentally" knocked his briefcase open at the elevator and caught a glimpse of
the divorce agreement.
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It seemed Remington was set to register his divorce from Lizetta today. After breakfast, as she was about to head
to work at The Starlight Group, she got a call from Cedric telling her to wait at hbecause Remington would
be coming over to the West household.
A newly divorced man, rushing over to the Wests, Stella couldn't fathom what it might mean.
But she couldn't help hoping for the best.
Maybe, just maybe, Remington had grown cold towards Lizetta and her divorce , finally realizing Stella was
a better match for him.
Maybe, to Remington, she was different, his previous detachment merely a consequence of marital chains.
Fresh from registering his divorce, could he be coming to take her on a date?
Perhaps, he was even coming to propose.
Such were her hopes...
To this end, she had picked out an off-shoulder white sweater dress, its fluffy texture accentuated by thin black
straps peeking through, complemented by light makeup that made her look youthful and pure.
"Mom, do you think Remington will finally see how good | am for him? If we go on a date, where should we go
first? Oh dear, | forgot to p | breath spray. Which flavor did mom say was better, peach or
nov
strawberry..."
Barbara stayed close to Stella, but without her daughter's airy optimism.
She felt a heavy premonition, suspecting trouble was brewing.
Remington's demeanor at the airport the day before didn't hint at a peaceful resolution.
And despite receiving a call last night from the hitman hired to silence Ralap, confirming Ralap's death, Barbara
couldn't shake a sense of unease.
Yet, Stella, lost in her sweet anticipations, failed to notice Barbara's mood.
As Stella dashed upstairs, buoyed by her dreams, the sound of a car pulling up and the butler's announcement
echoed through the estate.
"Mr. Dashiell has arrived."
In Zion City, few dared to address Remington by his first name.
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In the Dashiell household, even the servants referred to him respectfully as Mr. Remington Dashiell.
But having been a fixture in the West family hsince childhood, the servants there had always addressed him
more familiarly as Mr. Dashiell, a unique honor. Hearing the arrival, Stella halted her dash upstairs, turning and
running towards the foyer like a whirlwind.
"Remington, you're here, you..."
Her voice, bright and joyful, froze mid-sentence, her smile stiffening on her lips.
Because she saw Remington pulling along Lizetta.
Clearly, all her hopes were dashed in that moment; Remington couldn't possibly have brought Lizetta along for a
date.
"Oh... Liz, you're here too.
Remington, you should have told me
Liz was coming. | would have had
the staff prepare spregnancy-friendly sweets on something."
Stella forced a smile, but inside, panic was setting in.
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