Shattered Illusions Love Lies and Redemption (Lizetta and Remington) novel Chapter 1300

"Liz, I'm at the hospital..."

Jerome's voice drifted through the elevator car like a gentle breeze.

The woman couldn't stop herself from lifting her gaze toward the reflection in the doors, a fleeting flash of melancholy dimming her eyes.

Jerome keenly detected her stare and sharply snapped his eyes toward her, but all he saw was a woman quietly keeping her head down in the corner.

Jerome didn't look away again. Meanwhile, a response finally came through the phone.

However, it wasn't Lizetta's voice.

"She just fell asleep."

It was Remington's deep voice, sounding significantly huskier than usual.

He was clearly suppressing his volume to avoid waking Lizetta and the baby, and his tone was laced with lethargy since he had just woken up himself.

The smile at the corners of Jerome's eyes faded, and his tone lost its gentle warmth.

"She's been taken away. It's finished. Tell Liz to rest easy."

On the other end of the line, Remington, Lizetta, and Joy were all crammed onto a single hospital bed.

Two adults and one baby, all lying on their sides.

Remington had his arms wrapped around Lizetta from behind, and Lizetta had her arms securely wrapped around Joy.

Joy's little face was smooshed against his mother's chest, his mouth slightly parted in a peaceful slumber, a little string of drool clinging to his lips.

Lizetta was deep asleep, too. Even when the phone had rung, neither the mother nor the son had so much as twitched.

Squeezed onto the narrow bed, they were definitely cramped, but Remington had never felt his arms—or his heart—so incredibly full.

Hearing Jerome's update, Remington looked down at his wife, his gaze practically melting with devotion as he replied.

"Got it. Hanging up."

Even though he wasn't intentionally blocking the exit, his presence in the center made it impossible for anyone to squeeze past without brushing closely against him.

Keeping her head down and gripping her belongings, the woman turned sideways to slip past him.

After finally squeezing past him with her back turned, she let out a breath of relief, only to realize the doors were already slowly sliding shut.

Startled, she quickened her pace, her long hair whipping behind her.

She successfully stepped out, but just as she exhaled, a sharp pull jerked the hair at the back of her head.

She instinctively looked back, only to find a lock of her hair inexplicably tangled in the man's cufflink.

At the same time, the elevator doors continued to close.

Terror struck her face. Completely overwhelmed by the sudden crisis, she stood there frozen like a statue.

It wasn't until the doors were seconds away from shutting entirely that she snapped out of it. Her face drained of color as her imagination ran wild—picturing her scalp being ripped off, or worse, being dragged up the elevator shaft to a grisly, horrific death.