Twisted Ties of Love
Chapter 500

"I hear Casey's still in the observation room, infected with the virus and in isolation. You can't even touch him. Are you still planning on sticking by his side?" Brett's eyes were bloodshot.

Raised amongst the cold, aloof Windhams, he knew better than anyone how icy their hearts were. This cold-heartedness ran through their veins, passed down through generations. He had it, his aunt had it, and Casey, being her son, naturally had it.

He didn't believe Casey could give Izabella happiness, and he certainly didn't believe that the Dempseys, if anything happened to Casey, would spare Izabella.

The Dempseys weren't exactly saints. How else could they have risen to such power?

Izabella knew Brett all too well. They'd been entangled for years. With just a casual glance, she knew what was on his mind.

Sure enough, once a bad boy, always a bad boy. Ridiculously, she had thought he had come to his senses and decided to let go of her.

"Do you know who Casey is, Brett?" Izabella asked hoarsely.

Brett pursed his pale lips, waiting for Izabella to continue.

Izabella smiled faintly. Her eyes were as beautiful as ever, the black of her pupils shining like sun-warmed ice, so warm and inviting.

"Casey was the one who carried me home all those years ago. I mistook you for him and gave you my heart for four years. I forgot him, and when he returned as Ryker, I lost him again. I've stumbled and faller so many times, I died once and came back, and he's still by my side, never leaving."

Her eyes reddened at the mention of Casey, still lying in the observation room in critical condition.

"You always say our meeting was fate, but to me, it was a debt, a calamity. If I could, I would never have wanted to meet you."

She had suffered so much in her short life. It felt like she'd lived three lifetimes. But the one constant in those "three lifetimes" was him. That never changed.

Had she truly never wanted to meet him? Yes, their relationship was a mistake from the start. It was him, not Casey, who had enjoyed her love. Even when he realized he was a substitute, he kept it from Izabella, deceiving her.

Brett closed his eyes, remembering the Izabella consumed by the fire. "I don't believe Casey can give you happiness."

"Whether you believe it or not doesn't matter to me."

Brett choked, his Adam's apple bobbing as he affirmed, "I will prove to you, Izabella, that you are mistaken again. Even if Casey survives, I can guarantee you that I am the one for you." "We've been through so much together, Izabella. The good, the bad, the love, the hate. No one knows you better than I do, loves you more than I do. For you, I would give up my life."

Brett's lungs struggled as he finished his speech, his chest aching. "Even if I took a bullet for you this time, Izabella, you would still hate me, wouldn't you? You hate me for all the wrongs I've done, you're right, we owe each other too much. A simple 'it's over' won't suffice. You should continue hating me, hate me until you kill me."

Compared to Izabella's "let's be strangers," he would rather she continue to hate him. At least then, he would still occupy a place in her heart, rather than being denied even a residual emotion.

Whenever he thought of this, he would remember how good Izabella had been to him. A single frown from him would make her anxious, but now, even when he was on his deathbed, she wouldn't spare him a word of concern.

Listening to Brett's words, Izabella's face remained impassive.

Because these words, she had reminded herself of them every day. After so many reminders, she had become numb.

"I won't kill you, Brett," Izabella shook her head. "When Niki died, I indeed had the intent to kill. But someone told me that killing would stain my hands. If you want to die, I won't stop you, but please do it far away from me."

The drawer at the bottom of the cabinet was slightly open, revealing a fruit knife. Izabella pushed the drawer closed.

"Put away your arrogance, Brett.

You've never been right for me. The decision of who I choose to be with is mine, not yours. You say you can prove that there won't be a future between Casey and I. Well, I will use my own way to prove to everyone that our feelings for each other aren't something that can be easily changed."

They had seen and said enough. Izabella hadn't intended to talk so much with Brett, but his words were too hard to hear, too presumptuous.

People often suffer due to their presumptions.

Remembering Brett's illness, Izabella didn't want to argue with him anymore. "This is probably the last time I'll visit you. Your life is your own. You can choose to give it up, but please don't drag others down with

you."

She left the hospital room and only when she turned the corner did she feel his gaze leave her.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Izabella glanced at the screen. It was about the recent company movie.

Secretary Hansen informed her that "Ghost Snatchers" had been nominated for Best International Film. As the lead actress, she was required to attend the ceremony in two weeks.

"I've received the news," Izabella replied before putting the phone down.

The next day at noon, Presley visited the hospital and informed Izabella that the treatment plan for Casey had been finalized.

Casey had been infected with a virus that had flooded his blood with contagious pathogens. The only option was a blood transfusion, a procedure fraught with risk. He could die on the operating table.

They were asked to consider whether they wanted to proceed with the surgery and, if so, to come to the hospital to sign the agreement.

Half a month later? Izabella carefully confirmed the date of the surgery. It was scheduled for the day before the "Ghost Snatchers" awards ceremony.

Lately, Casey seemed to be constantly sleeping, with hardly any energy left to talk. Every bit of food he managed to consume would soon be thrown up. It had come to the point where he was reliant on nutrient infusions.

Casey, who once had a

well-proportioned body, now looked

like a mere shadow of his former

he

self. His fawline was more pronounced due to the weight had lost, his eye sockets were sunken, and his lips bore a sickly purplish-blue color.

At times he would experience hallucinations, unsure of where he was or who was talking to him. He would hear the words spoken to him, but was unable to form a coherent response, resorting to mumbling nonsensical sounds. He was becoming slower, like an old, worn-out machine.

Izabella, donning her protective suit, still visited him daily, even if it was just for half an hour.

"Why are you here again?"

Izabella stood beside Casey, aware of his aversion to being touched, hence she chose to keep her distance.

"Dr. Felton said there's hope for your condition. The surgical plan has been confirmed, it's set for the 20th. Don't worry, it's a minor procedure, you'll be okay after a good night's sleep," she reassured him.

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