Chapter 90
Yolanda just joined the film crew. She was the main stunt double, and they’d gone into lockdown mode for filming, so there’s no way she’s coming back anytime soon.
If Remington decided to be a jerk about it, Lizetta would be left high and dry with no one to turn to.
“Here, borrow a phone. I’ll Venmo you some cash, get the waiter to snag you some clothes, and we’ll call it a day.”
The guy seemed super impatient, and before Lizetta could even reply, he hung up on her.
Lizetta was steaming mad as she slammed down the phone, but with no other choice, she did as the man said. and borrowed someone’s phone.
She unblocked Remington, sending him a raging, fuming emoji.
When Remington saw he was back in the chat, his lips curved into a smirk, and he transferred 60 grand.
Seeing the 60k notification, Lizetta remembered his words, 20k per sleepover. Her hands trembled as she clutched the phone.
Remington waited a bit, but when he didn’t get a reply, he texted her again.
[Don’t bother with the restaurant. I’ve had someone pick up your stuff and bring it to Oakridge Heights.]
He was just about to hit send when that familiar red exclamation point popped up again. Remington couldn’t help but laugh it off.
After changing into her new clothes, Lizetta cabbed back to the restaurant to collect her belongings and gave a sincere apology to the owner.
That evening, she taught a dance private lesson to a grade schooler, and it was already nine when she left the student’s place.
Lizetta couldn’t stop thinking about Remington’s arm injury. She’d promised to take care of him until he healed, and she wasn’t about to break her word.
But before heading back to Oakridge Heights, she decided to swing by Yolanda’s place first.
She had a dance routine prepped for Master Dories‘ audition and had recorded it to show her mentor, Yovnne. The video was on her laptop, which she needed to pick up.
The building’s motion sensor light was busted again. Using her phone for light, Lizetta climbed to the fifth floor and was rummaging through her bag for the keys when she caught a whiff of cigarette smoke.
Yolanda lived on the top floor, the sixth, and the neighbors had moved out.
This wasn’t the brand Remington smoked.
A chill ran down Lizetta’s spine. She kept her head down, pretending to search for her keys, but then she swiftly turned and bolted downstairs.
Too late.
Footsteps caught up to her. Before she could round the stairwell corner, her hair was yanked back.
“Ah! Hel–Mmph!”
She tried to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth.
The man dragged her up the stairs. Lizetta grabbed the railing, but he had no mercy. He slammed her head against the wooden banister.
1/2
14:21
Dizzy and vision blurring, her bag and phone tumbled to the ground.
The cracked phone screen it up with an incoming call–her emergency plea for help was answered.
Tears streamed down Lizetta’s face. Even if she couldn’t make a sound, she hoped Remington would sense something was wrong and come to her rescue.
Maybe his voice would scare off the attacker.
But then the man behind her noticed the call and stiffened.
However, the next second, a woman’s voice came through the phone.
“Looking for Remi? He’s in the shower after I got his pants dirty. I’ll have him call you back later, okay?”
And with that, the line went dead.
Lizetta felt her blood turn to ice.
At her most critical moment, she had dialed an emergency contact instead of reaching for her pepper spray–a homifically wrong decision.
It left her in utter despair.
Apparently, the man behind her found it amusing too, as he let out a mocking laugh.
“Your emergency contact is a married man? You really do get around, don’t you? Quite the actress, aren’t you, Miss Mermaid?”
Linda said this woman was nothing but trouble, and Daniel hadn’t believed her until he saw the high–end cars showing up for her every other day.
She lived in a place like this, with fancy cars at her beck and call, it was obvious what she was doing.
