Caroline blinked, "You know, like a spontaneous camping trip, Movie Star Cassius plays it pretty wild. Accidentally got some footage of it..."
Cassius's gaze darkened slightly, his voice cool, "Text it to me."
Caroline's lips curved into a smirk, raising her glass in a toast.
Cassius, with a lazy grip, clinked his wine glass against Caroline's and took a sip, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Caroline, with a sultry look, passed him a QR code.
After adding her on WhatsApp, Cassius said, "Send it."
Caroline chuckled, sauntering back to her seat and, with a twist of her waist, sent him a photo.
Cassius tapped open the message.
In the photo, under the curve of a crescent moon, the night over the creek illuminated a tent. Inside, the silhouettes of two intertwined figures were unmistakable. Zooming in, Cassius's lips quirked in a mix of wild desire and amusement.
Catching his smug smirk, Caroline typed a message.
"Got something even more thrilling. You in?"
After sending, a red alert popped up immediately, changing Caroline's expression in a flash.
Meanwhile, Cassius, without looking up, saved the photo, then switched to Facebook, refreshing his feed only to find Yolanda's recent post had vanished. Was it actually deleted?
So obedient?
With a click of his tongue, Cassius opened Yolanda's chat.
"Playing nice today, huh? What do you want?"
Yolanda responded quickly.
"Forgot you're just one of Badass Remington's lackeys!"
Lackeys?
Something felt off to Cassius. He checked Yolanda's WhatsApp profile, then her Facebook again.
Sure enough, all of Yolanda's updates were gone.
She hadn't deleted her post; she had restricted him.
In an instant, Cassius's mood soured.
At the hospital, in a private room.
Remington checked Cassius's message while Stella, still unconscious on the hospital bed, hadn't woken up.
Opening the photo, even through the blurry figures, Remington could instantly tell the woman surrounded by fawning men was Lizetta. And though her expression was indiscernible, somehow Remington felt she was smiling.
Smiling at other men.
His grip on the phone tightened, ready to turn away, when suddenly Stella let out a sharp scream.
"No! Please, don't! Mom, stop!"
Remington paused, turning back to see Stella trapped in a nightmare.
Her face was pale, drenched in sweat, hands flailing in the air, her fear palpable.
Frowning, Remington's gaze fell on Stella's visibly injured right hand, but he decided to approach, gently patting her shoulder.
Stella seemed to fall deeper into her nightmare, crying out in panic.
"Get away, don't touch me! Please, I'll behave, I won't do it again, just don't hit me!"
Over the years, Stella had not had it easy, often going hungry or cold, and sometimes subjected to lockups and beatings.
And now, her nightmares were clearly a reflection of those painful experiences.
Remington stiffened, a crack of emotion breaking through his icy demeanor as he called out sternly.
"Stella, wake up!"
But she continued, her flailing hand accidentally striking Remington.
His brow furrowed deeper, he grasped her hand firmly.
Only then did Stella's eyes snap open. Seeing her awake, Remington let go and said,
"I'll get a doctor."
Yet, Stella looked at him with eyes full of pain and fear, tears rolling down her cheeks. She hesitantly reached out, gripping his hand.
"Remington, is that really you? I thought... I thought you'd never want to see me or bother with me again."
Her voice broke into sobs, her other hand gently touching his face, seeking reassurance in his presence.
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