Twisted Ties of Love

This was the first time Izabella saw her post being swiftly deleted.

With Nikki in one arm and the other hand unconsciously fiddling with its tag, Izabella's phone began to vibrate. A text message from a stranger popped up on the screen.

"Izabella, I don't see you as a substitute anymore. If you stick with me, I can protect you. Brett is ruthless. If you want a better life, it's best to steer clear of him. He's a nutcase." After reading the message with a frown, Izabella instinctively hit reply.

"Being with you," Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but in the end, she deleted the sentence. She had nothing good to say to Nathaniel. Izabella deleted the message, blocked him, and edited a custom system alert.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel was waiting for Izabella's response, thinking that he had made himself clear enough for her to understand.

However, after waiting for half an hour, he didn't get any reply. Did she not see the message? Was she scared?

Nathaniel sent another message.

"Just come back to me, and I can forgive everything you've done in the past, including holding hands with Casey today."

But his message seemed to sink into the sea without a trace. Sensing something was off, Nathaniel quit the texting app and dialed Izabella.

As soon as the phone rang, a cold, automated voice responded.

"Sorry, the person you're calling is currently calling you a dumbass. Please stop calling."

"Bang!" Nathaniel slammed his phone down. Damn Bell, the stand-in was becoming more and more like Izabella.

Nathaniel was pissed off; the phone's message echoed in his mind.

It felt as if Izabella was right in front of him, pointing at his nose and cursing him. He stood up, kicked the coffee table, and smashed a vase.

The butler rushed over after hearing the commotion and was surprised at the sight of the broken pieces.

Nathaniel was known to be good-tempered and always smiling. He had never won a fight against Brett, always ending up injured.

So when the butler saw the mess on the floor and Nathaniel's bloodshot eyes, he was taken aback.

"Mr. Krueger, what happened?"

Nathaniel took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and put on a smile again. "I'm fine. Arrange for someone to clean this up. I'm going to work in the study. Don't disturb me."

"Yes, sir." The butler nodded quickly and only breathed a sigh of relief after Nathaniel had disappeared into the study.

Nathaniel's anger was not entirely gone; it was just temporarily suppressed. He sat at his desk, flipping through files, but nothing went in.

As soon as he was slightly distracted, he would think of the image of Casey leading Izabella away.

How did Izabella meet Casey? Their social statuses were worlds apart. It was hard to imagine what they had in common.

Every time Nathaniel thought about this, his imagination would run wild. He would picture where Casey took Izabella today if they had been to a restaurant, shared a meal, stayed in the same room, showered, slept together, and done things he had never tried.

Did the little girl start to like him? She let him hold her hand and followed him.

How could this happen?

Nathaniel tried to control his emotions, but the document in his hand had already been unconsciously crumpled. By the time he realized it, the document was so wrinkled that it was unusable. He glanced at it, then casually threw it on the ground.

Sleep was elusive tonight, not only for Nathaniel but also for Brett. He didn't dare send a text message, only revisiting his past with Izabella.This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

Looking at the tear-and-blood-stained diary, he didn't want to be greedy, but he couldn't bear the thought of Izabella having only other men in her heart from now on.

He didn't ask for much, just one year with her.

Did Izabella mean it when she casually mentioned a chat fee of a hundred grand for half an hour today? If he gave her all his money, would she be willing to stay with him?

The night wind was chilly as he carefully pressed the yellowed diary against his chest.

Brett used to have a robust body and rarely fell ill. But now, apart from lung cancer, his stomach was also giving him problems.

For a moment, he didn't know whether to take his lung cancer medication or stomach pills.

He clutched his chest, feeling as if numerous nails were piercing his organs. The pain was everywhere, and he didn't even have a chance to vent.

He curled up on the small chair, his large body trembling from the pain. Brett was very good at enduring pain. No matter how much it hurt, he always gritted his teeth and kept quiet.

Until he couldn't stand it anymore, and he vomited blood.

The thick blood dripped from his mouth onto the floor. He quickly wiped it off, went to the bathroom to rinse with cold water, and covered his mouth with a damp towel.

His internal organs felt like they had been pierced by countless swords; the pain was unbearable.

Brett's eyes welled up with tears as he began to miss the old Izabella. Izabella, who prepared food for him every day in the diary, reminded him to dress warmly, knitted scarves for him in winter, secretly drew pictures of him when she missed him, and folded her wishes into paper stars.

When in pain, people can't help reminiscing about the past and regretting past decisions.

If only Izabella could cook him a bowl of noodles right now.

If only she could remind him to take care of his health.

Even if these were of no help now, at least he wouldn't have any regrets.

Brett swallowed a few painkillers.

After a while, the severe pain eased a bit, but his chest and stomach still felt uncomfortable, spasming with pain. Even his head began to ache.

The pain made him delirious, and in his blurry vision, he saw Izabella. The proud Ms. Izabella in a red dress who used to stand before him.

The dream felt so real, but Brett knew it was just that, a dream, and he didn't want to wake up.

"Izabella, my stomach's killing me. I'm craving your home cooking, or just some porridge if that's too much trouble."

"Izabella, I swear I'll quit smoking; I won't ever chuck an ashtray at you again."

"Izabella, I feel like I'm dying; could you look at me one more time?"

"Izabella."

"Izabella."

In his dream, Izabella did nothing. She just stared at him coldly. "Brett, I'm dead. You go your way; I'll go mine. We're not crossing paths again." For the three years since Izabella's death, he avoided dreaming of her, afraid that after the third dream, there would be no more chance of seeing her. Now that Izabella was back, he could finally dream of her again.

He thought dreaming of Izabella would be a sweet dream, but it turned into a nightmare, trapping him with no escape.

He saw a sea of fire and Izabella in a red dress standing amidst the flames, smiling at him.

Brett woke up from the nightmare, immediately reached for his phone, and found that familiar number.

He hesitated for a long time before typing a message to Izabella.

"I miss you."

He didn't expect Izabella to reply; she probably blocked his number the moment she saw it was from him.

Brett continued typing, "I dreamt of

you today, you from the past, prettier than you are now. You haven't smiled at me in a long time, so long that I'm forgetting what your smile looks like."

Right now, Izabella might be smiling at someone else. Her warmth and care no longer belonged to him.

He was stuck in the past.

Every time he closed his eyes that Christmas night, he saw a figure desperately swimming towards him in the water. She was so skinny, her arms so delicate, yet she held onto him tightly in the water.

The scene shifted abruptly; he was throwing a pregnant Izabella down from the second floor, and the blood was a vivid, shocking red.

With great difficulty, Izabella managed to say, "Brett, you're so cruel," her voice full of despair.

From that moment on, Izabella began to drift further and further away from him.

He kept waiting for Izabella's reply on his phone, but it never came.

He looked up Izabella's name on Twitter; her tweets were the same old ones, no updates. He searched for Casey.

He saw that Casey posted a new tweet, a photo of two dishes and a soup, with the caption "delicious".

Brett immediately recognized the

food as Izabella's; she'd cooked the same dishes for him countless

times, and the color and

l.ne

presentation were identical. Just looking at the photo, he could smell the aroma.

Brett covered his eyes. Izabella was cooking for another man.

And it was Casey.

He was clearly told that it was Casey, not Ryker Dempsey, but Izabella still chose to be with him. That was just the way fate worked.

The right people would find each other in the end, no matter the twists and turns, and the wrong ones would part ways even if they met. Time was silent, but it gave the best answers.

Brett couldn't accept it.

That year, he used Izabella as a bargaining chip just to ensure Kaley Cornett's safety.

Izabella asked him, wasn't he afraid of what the kidnappers might do to her?

His answer then was that if the kidnappers really did anything to her, he would kill them, and he wouldn't feel any disgust towards her. Whenever Brett remembered what he said back then, he would raise his hand and slap himself hard.

How could he have said those things back then?