Twisted Ties of Love

With Nathaniel died behind bars, Brett was the most likely one to have come here.

Just as Albin was mulling over this revelation, a commotion stirred upstairs. His longtime domestic helper called out to him with urgency.

"Albin, Mr. Windham's back home - the eldest, Brett."

To outsiders, Brett was known as "President Windham," but within the walls of the household, he was either "Mr. Windham" because they had watched him grow from a boy to a man. The old butler scurried outside, forgetting all about his usual aches and pains. It had been ages since he last saw Brett, at the solemn occasion of Patrick's funeral.

Brett hadn't changed much in appearance, but there was a striking difference in his demeanor. He now carried the same gravitas as Patrick had in his final, illness-stricken days. The butler, initially overwhelmed with emotion, composed himself at the sight of Brett.

"Albin, it's been a while," Brett greeted.

With a deliberate pace, the butler approached and commented on Brett's thinness before turning his attention to the woman beside him, "And who might this young lady be?" "She's my girlfriend."

The word "girlfriend" stunned not only the butler but also the house staff who paused their work to stare in disbelief.

Everyone knew about Brett's beloved Izabella, who tragically perished in a Christmas Eve fire at the age of twenty-seven. She was Brett's ex-wife, the woman whose memory he couldn't escape. After her death, Brett had wandered through life numb and lost for a year, even spending time in a psychiatric hospital for treatment of his mental breakdown.

Brett's love for Izabella had only become known to all after her death.

Now, six years later, Brett suddenly returned with a woman he introduced as his girlfriend. The surprise was palpable.

The staff exchanged curious glances, trying to see clearly the woman capable of capturing Brett's heart.

The warmth of the heating inside made Izabella, who had been wrapped in a scarf, feel overheated. She removed the scarf and spoke with a detached tone, "I'm not his girlfriend."

Once the scarf was off, the butler squinted for a better look. Despite his age, his eyes were still sharp.

He couldn't help but think how much she resembled Brett's late ex-wife; surely, she must have been brought in as a stand-in.

"What should I call you, miss?" the butler asked respectfully.

"Izabella Salotti. Just call me Izabella, please," she replied, directing her frustration with Brett away from his kin and household staff - after all, respect for elders and children was a fundamental courtesy. As Izabella's tone softened, the butler couldn't help but view her with sympathy. Poor girl, to be used as a stand-in at such a young age. Mr. Windham seemed heartless.

The butler quickly offered her a seat and instructed the staff to brew some tea, known for balancing hormones, as it was common knowledge that stress could disrupt a woman's endocrine system. Izabella added honey to her tea to counter the tartness as the butler asked Brett, "Mr. Windham, how long do you plan to stay?"

"Just the night. We'll leave tomorrow."

"So soon? Don't you want to stay a bit longer?"

Brett shook his head.

Izabella sipped her tea with half-closed eyes. The old butler, finding Brett as distant as ever, attempted to strike up a conversation with Izabella, "Ms. Salotti, won't you consider staying a little longer?" "I follow his lead. I do whatever he asks," she responded, her voice carrying a tone of resignation.

The butler's gaze grew more sympathetic at her words.

"This is the first time Mr. Windham has brought a girlfriend home," he couldn't help but add.

Izabella showed little interest, her passion having been extinguished along with the flames of that fateful fire. Whether Brett was bringing someone home for the first time, how many he'd brought, or whom he introduced, it was all irrelevant to

her. ś

Brett then coughed sharply.

The butler thought he was being chided for speaking out of turn and promptly fell silent, but Brett's coughing only worsened. He rushed to the restroom, clutching his chest.

"Mr. Windham, are you alright?" the butler asked, clearly concerned.

Izabella glanced over and said, "Might be a cold, with the chilly weather and all."

"Indeed." the butler nodded,

muttering to himself, "The weatherConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

has turned. I'll have the kitchen

prepare some ginger tea. Mr.

Windham dislikes medicine and going to hospitals, and it's tricky to recover from a cold this time of year

without medication."

After instructing the staff in the kitchen, the butler returned to find Brett still absent and Izabella's impassive face even more enigmatic.

He had only seen the old Izabella in

photos and videos, never in person, but the resemblance was uncanny even down to the cool detachment in theineyes. The butler understood the resentment this woman harbored towards Brett.

Approaching her, he said, "Despite the privilege of being born into such a prominent family, Mr. Windham has not had an easy life."