"I texted her, and she said she didn't need me tonight."

Izabella couldn't believe that there could be such a straightforward man in the world. She said seriously, "Sometimes when a woman says she doesn't need you, she's actually saying she does, okay?" "Do you feel the same?" Brett asked, his eyes suddenly becoming deep as he leaned closer to Izabella, waiting for her response.

But Izabella just shook her head, "No, I really don't need you."

Her tone was flat, emotionless like talking about the weather. This annoyed Brett, his brows furrowed.

Izabella put down her phone, "I'm going to cook."

Since moving around was inconvenient for her, Brett ended up carrying her downstairs.

Feeling irritated, Izabella thought about how Brett could still make her cook despite her condition. Wasn't it obvious he was just trying to give her a hard time?

When Trista came into the kitchen to ask if she needed any help, Izabella opened the fridge and took out ingredients that Brett could eat, asking Trista to help wash and cut them.

Trista worked efficiently and quickly, clearly used to these tasks. When she was finished, she discreetly left the kitchen.

Izabella started cooking a few simple home-cooked dishes: mac and cheese, Spinach Salad, and Pumpkin soup. That should be enough for dinner.

She was so focused on cooking that she didn't notice the intense gaze of someone watching her from behind.

While Izabella was cooking, Brett sat on the sofa across from her with his laptop, pretending to work while actually watching her busy figure.

Dressed casually in an apron that accentuated her waist, she looked incredibly sexy. Izabella even decorated the dishes in the pan, making each one look delicious.

Lost in thought, she recalled how she used to cook for Brett with love and care. Now, she had to scheme against him. She really had changed.

Brett served the dishes, and they began eating. Izabella had left a separate dish for Trista.

Seeing her actions, Brett thought it was unnecessary since the servants usually had their own separate meals.

Thinking about how he hadn't tasted her food for four years, Brett felt a slight sense of regret. However, better late than never.

He enjoyed the meal, eating up everything on the table. Izabella didn't have much appetite and only ate a little.

Trista cleared the dishes and brought them back to the kitchen to clean. Izabella wiped the sweat off her brow, hoping to shower and rest early, but she could only use a damp towel to wash due to her injuries. Without saying anything, Brett knew her thoughts and carried her upstairs once they'd rested. The bathtub was already filled with hot water waiting for her.

Izabella grabbed her clothes and pointed to the door, "Get out."

"What are you so shy about?" As Brett spoke, his hand reached out to embrace her.

Izabella resisted his touch, pounding on his shoulders and unsuccessfully trying to escape.

The atmosphere between them suddenly shifted, and Brett's eyes emitted a dangerous light, "If you keep struggling, what happens next won't be just a simple bath."

Hearing his words, Izabella didn't dare to move.

Many injuries covered her body, the worst being her knee. Her leg, already pale, made the bruises look even more striking.

Her cheeks flushed red, and her body radiated heat.

Brett carried her into the bathroom and gently placed her in the bathtub, making sure her legs didn't touch the water to prevent infection. She covered her chest with her hands, unwilling to expose her injured hand, looking like a shy little girl.

Having never served anyone before, Brett first wet Izabella's hair, creating a lather with shampoo as he gently massaged her head.

With soap in her eyes, Izabella had to close them.

Brett quickly finished washing her hair and bathed her in the same gentle manner, rubbing her back. He glanced at the water, noticing a bruise on Izabella's spine.

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