NovelEnglishWho else was involved in this mess, Remington couldn't say for sure. But he was convinced Jerhad to know
something. After all, Lizetta went missing from the dance troupe. Remington's gaze turned icy, and as time
ticked by without any leads, his restlessness and frustration grew, igniting a fire within him that only burned
fiercer.
"Mr. Dashiell, I'm truly sorry about Mrs. Dashiell's disappearance. | called the cops right away and made sure
everyone in the troupe cooperated with your investigation. The show almost fell apart without her. Honestly, |
was hoping you could tellwhere your wife has gone off to."
Jercaught Remington's hand as it clenched his collar.
Both men appeared calm, but their arm muscles strained against each other, veins bulging on the backs of their
hands.
Just as the tension was about to erupt, Ray's voice cut through, "Mr. Dashiell, a letter for you. Seems like it's from
your wife."
Remington abruptly let go of Jerand turned to take the letter from Ray. The envelope bore Remington's
name, unmistakably in Lizetta's handwriting.
"The letter was in a package sent from Zion City, addressed to you. Looks like Mrs. Dashiell mailed it from there,
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇttiming it just so," Ray mentioned as Remington tore open the envelope.
The letter was brief, a few lines on a single sheet of paper, but Remington read it slowly, his eyes darkening as if
stained with blood. All of a sudden, he crumpled the letter in his fist and stormed out. "Take care, Mr. Dashiell,"
Jercalled out nonchalantly.
Remington paused, turning back. Jerhad resumed his seat behind the desk, straightening his rumpled shirt,
his voice slightly chilled.
"Seems Mrs. Dashiell left on her own accord. Next tyou visit, Mr. Dashiell, I'd expect more civility. This isn't
the kind of place you can just barge into."
"If my wife is missing and you, Mr. Madden, played any part in it, | won't let it go!" Remington's eyes were icy, his
presence almost menacing.
But Jerjust offered a faint smile, "Women leave when they feel insecure. Perhaps, Mr. Dashiell, you should
look inward for reasons."
Remington's jaw clenched tight, his eyes looking as if fury brewed inside, a cold laugh escaping him.
"Florence always makes a scene, probably feels insecure too. Maybe you should get your own house in order
first, Mr. Madden!"
With that, he left with his entourage.
Once in the car, Ray asked cautiously, "Mr. Dashiell, where to now?"
Remington leaned back, the brief letter still in his grip.
"Back to Zion City," he finally said, voice weary.
"Not looking anymore?" Ray sounded surprised.
Remington opened his eyes, "She must've left Summer City by now. Any traces here have been wiped clean. No
point in looking."
But of course, the search would go on. There would be clues somewhere. He wouldn't give up!
As Ray drove off, instructing their
team in Summer City to pull out, Remington looked down at the wrinkled letter, his hand trembling as he tried to
crush it. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it and instead, unfolded it once more, his gaze falling on the few
lines.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm
[Remington, leaving was my decision. Please, don't blame
anyone. I'm just so tired, and net
you've never been happy
know
wer.
A good marriage, a good love, it's about equals. But we are worlds apart, a mistake from the start.
You are like the moon, and I strain to reach you, thinking I'm close, yet it's all an illusion.
You always givehope, and then leavewith disappointment. And in that disappointment, I've learned to
let go.
Withdrawing my dependence, taking
back my tove, without love or hatred,
letting go might just be the best outcfor us. Even if it's with regret, it's better than tormenting each other,
drowning in tears.]
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