Twisted Ties of Love
Chapter 280

The indwelling needle stuck in Brett's neck wouldn't be fatal, it would only cause a momentary pain. Izabella tightly grasped the needle, as if holding a knife, she made a downward cut along the artery and blood flowed out.

Brett grunted. He was not afraid of death, what he feared was Izabella leaving him.

He gently bit Izabella's lip and then let her go. He did not wipe the blood off his neck, but instead, took hold of Izabella's trembling hand, "Your hand got dirty."

She looked at her fingers, the blue veins were prominent on the back of her hand, and the tips were filled with thick blood. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and a single tear slid down her cheek, translucent and sparkling.

Tears streamed down Izabella's face, yet a ferocious smile was on her lips. She didn't feel fear or sorrow, but was overwhelmingly excited, for she had finally hurt this man. However, to her, this was nothing. Brett wiped the tears from her face, "Izabella, just like today, I will wait for you to kill me, as long as you can do it."

Izabella's teeth gritted, her face turning icy. She suddenly burst into laughter, then started sobbing loudly like a child. She threw away the blood-soaked needle in her hand, leaned on the sink next to her, and stood up unsteadily, "I will definitely kill you. If I can't, I'll make you live in despair, just like me."

Brett stood up with her, "If you want to kill me, you must live well."

The wound on Brett's neck was not deep. After disinfection, it could be casually bandaged.

However, Izabella's wound on her abdomen had torn open, fresh blood seeping out, staining her hospital gown red.

Brett watched as the doctor frowned and treated her wound, throwing bloody cotton balls into the trash. The wound was ghastly, like a blood-red eye.

How painful must it be? But Izabella didn't even frown. She seemed to have listened to Brett's words, took her medication on time, got IV fluids, and lived on.

In the past, when taking medication, she could only swallow them one by one, scared of the bitterness, and would even eat candy after. Now, she could swallow several at once, and if she couldn't swallow them, she would let them dissolve in her mouth and drink more water. She had long forgotten the sweet taste and had no intention to try it again.

Brett had Tiara to take care of Izabella. The two of them sat together and talked, mostly Tiara spoke and Izabella listened. They didn't mention the child, as if she had never been pregnant.

On November 11th, Izabella was discharged from the hospital.

After more than four months, her ragdoll cat seemed a little strange to her, hiding on the sofa and secretly observing her. When it saw Izabella sit down, it gathered the courage to come over and sniff, it was a familiar scent.

"Meow." Niki called out, swishing her fluffy tail.

Izabella scratched Niki's neck and combed her fur. She had grown a lot, it was obvious that she had been well taken care of while Izabella was away.

Niki enjoyed being stroked by her and relaxed completely, exposing her furry and round belly. Izabella gently stroked from her neck towards her belly.

Ragdoll cats are generally gentle, and Niki was especially affectionate. She recognized Izabella as the one who raised her since she was a kitten, and became even closer to her, purring loudly.

The internet in the villa was shut down on Brett's orders. Izabella had a phone but couldn't see any external news, as if something was being hidden.

"Izabella, are you going upstairs?" Tiara asked, having long since replaced the title "Madam" with "Izabella".

Izabella nodded, setting down Niki in her arms. The villa was just as it used to be, though her room had undergone some minor alterations. The color scheme was now warm, with many more decorative paintings. One of them was of sunflowers, full of vitality.

The weather was getting colder and colder. Izabella had to wear a down jacket and layer it with two sweaters to withstand the chill of winter.

Returning to the heated villa, she felt warm. It was just right for Izabella once she took off her down jacket.

Despite the heating on, she liked to keep the windows open. The cold wind cut into her face like a knife, leaving Izabella's complexion pale and devoid of life.

Brett continued his routine of going to and from work, always returning early to keep Izabella company. However, their relationship was becoming increasingly cold and distant.

Sleeping became a problem. Under Izabella's resentful gaze, Brett couldn't share a bed with her and had to sleep on a makeshift bed, far away on the sofa.

Most of the time, Izabella was looking at a porcelain vase, holding it in her arms when she was free. She would take a clean cloth and meticulously wipe it down, even though there was no dust on it.

A week passed, and Izabella held the porcelain vase as she told Brett, "Let's bury it somewhere."

"Alright," Brett agreed. He chose a cemetery, paid a substantial amount for a plot, and buried the vase.

Izabella silently stared at the name "Bennett" on the tombstone, her expression as dull and smoky as a cloud of smoke. She didn't cry, for her tears had long since run dry.

After returning home, Izabella acted as if nothing had happened. She took care of her health, and her complexion slowly started to improve, though her face remained pale as if it could not recover. She had become used to holding and wiping the vase, but now that it was buried, her hands always felt empty. In order to avoid this sense of loss, Izabella began to find things to do for herself. She washed her clothes, cleaned her bedroom and bathroom, and cooked her own meals.

Tiara was always there to assist her, helping with tasks such as washing vegetables.

Brett had given orders that Izabella could do whatever she wished as long as she didn't harm herself, including going out.

This time he didn't restrict her freedom, but Izabella stayed obediently at home, never stepping foot outside as if she had become accustomed to a caged life.

After Brett finished his work and returned home, he was greeted by the familiar aroma of food. This was a scent he had often smelled during those four years.

"Who cooked today?" he asked the butler, his voice trembling slightly.

"It was Madam," the butler replied.

A tremor ran through Brett's lips. Indeed, he saw Izabella bustling about in the kitchen with an apron on.

For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating, that he had returned to four years ago.

Back then, Izabella would cook for him, always coming back home no matter how busy her work was. The familiar smell of food, which he had sneered at and neglected during those four years, was now a taste he longed for even in his dreams.

As Tiara served the dishes one by one, Brett washed his hands and sat down eagerly.

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