Twisted Ties of Love

Now, it seemed absurd to say it, but Bell's glory had nothing to do with them.

The family was consumed by regret, yet no one would let them off the hook just because they admitted their mistakes.

Myra tried to reason, ready to call the police on her phone, but the nearest person knocked it out of her hands, shattering it to pieces.

Ron was nothing but a spineless man in the village, unable to protect his wife. The sight of a bunch of thugs bursting in had him cowering in the corner.

Myra, cradling her grandchild, didn't dare to fight back and could only resort to throwing tantrums helplessly on the ground.

The gang of thugs were irritated but knew better than to harm the elderly or the young. They had mostly left the couple alone, until their son, Fredric, arrived. He looked a perfect outlet for their frustration, and they immediately surrounded him, punching and kicking while hurling threats.

"I'll make you pay for stealing our money! You dare call the cops? The cops won't even arrive before I chop off your hand. Oh, it seems there's already one missing finger." One of the men grabbed Fredric's bloody hand, "How about we chop off the rest?"

Fredric was in excruciating pain, mumbling incoherently, pleading for mercy with blood at the corners of his mouth, "I'm sorry. It's our fault, please stop."

Fredric was too scared to call the police. He had lost five hundred thousand dollars in a poker game and had signed IOU for the debt. If he involved the police, those thugs might leave him limbless. City folks were not to be trifled with, and now, all he wanted was to return to the village and live the simple life.

Once, the thing he least wanted to do had become his deepest wish.

Carrying her grandson and seeing her son's hand, Myra was terrified. No matter how useless her son was, he was still her precious child. She had never hit or scolded him, yet here he was, his fingers chopped off by someone.

"Please stop," Myra cried, "I'll do anything as long as you stop hitting my son."

Sure enough, the gang ceased their attack, looking at the pathetic family with contempt, "Then bring out our money."

"We really didn't take your money. How many times do I have to say it?" As soon as Myra finished, she saw the man pinning Fredric to the ground, twisting his right hand back. One more bit of force and his hand would snap.

Fredric was being beaten up for the first time, unable to find any help. He could only beg Myra to save him.

"Mom, please help me. I don't want to die. It hurts so much."

Myra was in tears, hurriedly uttering, "We don't have any money on us now, but we will work hard to pay you back."

Only then did the thugs let Fredric go. They noticed something sticking out of Fredric's pocket and he pulled out a note showing a debt of five hundred thousand dollars.

"You owe five hundred thousand, which means you had money to gamble, but you still claim you didn't steal our money? Did you lose the money we left here?" A thug stepped on Fredric and asked. Myra was stunned, "W-what, five hundred thousand? Fredric, you lost that much? Where are you going to get that kind of money? How could you gamble?"

"I was tricked!"

"This note is real. You are the one who borrowed and lost the money. Who tricked you? Your hand was chopped off at the gambling den, wasn't it?"

All the talking was in vain. The thugs took Myra and Ron, leaving the child behind. As for Fredric, with such a huge debt, they considered him a liability.

Myra and Ron were dragged to an underground sweatshop, working day and night. Any attempt to rest resulted in a beating.

Work was exhausting. They were unpaid, and the food was terrible. They subsisted on bread and watery soup. The occasional bit of meat was nothing but scraps.

In just a month, the couple had lost a significant amount of weight. They were in constant regret. They had come to the city hoping to get money from Bell, but instead, they were robbed as soon as they stepped off the train. Now, they were trapped here.

They had no idea how their son and grandson were doing. If they had known it would come to this, they would have stayed in the village.

Even now, Myra still hoped that someone would rescue her, preferably Bell.

Instead of help, what came was illness. Myra collapsed one day, paralyzed.

But those people still didn't let her go. They made Ron drag her onto the streets every day to beg for money.

Today, as usual, Ron dragged Myra with one hand and held a cardboard sign with the other. Once they reached their usual spot, he sat her down to beg.

His eyes were dull, fixed in one direction, occasionally uttering a desperate plea.

"Please help us, have mercy on us."

Myra reeked terribly. She was paralyzed and drooling, unable to go to the bathroom herself, soiling herself right there on the streets. The stench was unbearable, driving away the few passersby who might have given them money.

It seemed they wouldn't make any money today. Once they got back, they would definitely be beaten again. Ron was in a state of despair. He had considered running away, but after witnessing the brutal beating of a fellow worker who tried to escape, he dared not.

As Ron hung his head, he caught sight of a pair of shoes in the corner of his eye. He followed the line of sight upwards until his gaze landed on a face. His pupils dilated, and his lips trembled.

It was Bell, their daughter who had become a superstar. Had she come to rescue them?

"Bell, my daughter, you finally came."

Izabella gazed down at them, void of any expression. She looked at them with cold eyes, like they were nothing more than two rats.

Izabella, in an attempt to resemble the Bell they once knew, wore no makeup and dressed plainly, showcasing her features as much as possible.

As Ron locked eyes with Izabella, he fell silent. Despite the striking resemblance, the look in her eyes told him that this was not his daughter anymore. "How have you been this past month?"

Whether they were well or not was evident. Izabella asked it deliberately, and Ron could see the disdain and mockery in her eyes.

Izabella spoke to herself, "Seeing you two in this state brings me joy. What goes around comes around. If you two were doing well, wouldn't it have been a waste of my money hiring people to do this?" Although Myra was paralyzed, she could still hear.

After hearing Izabella's words, what more was there to misunderstand?

Reflecting on all the misfortunes they had encountered since coming to the city, being robbed, tricked by a man named lan, wrongfully accused and forced to work in this hellish place, becoming paralyzed, forced to beg on the streets, they had suffered all the tears and humiliations one could experience in a lifetime.

The real instigator, the one that had brought them to such a state, was their very own daughter, Bell.

Myra glared at her hatefully, her eyes filled with murderous intent.

"You," she spat out, her words slurred with rage. "You ungrateful wretch, I should've drowned you in the river when you were born, or sold you to be someone's bride. You've turned against your own family like that, Bell. You won't meet a good end. You'll pay for this." Her words were a vile curse upon her own flesh and blood.

Izabella began to doubt if Bell was really their daughter.

From Bell's memories, she learned that what Myra cherished most were her son and grandson.

"Do you want to know how Fredric and your grandson are doing?"

The moment "Fredric" was mentioned, Myra instantly grew silent.

Izabella's lips curled into a soft, generous smile, like a benevolent figure, but her following words were heartless.

"Fredric was bitten by a dog and didn't get a rabies shot. He's dead from rabies three days ago. I have pictures here. Do you want to see?" Izabella casually pulled out the photos from her bag and tossed them on the ground. Myra and Ron stared dumbly at the images.

The sight of someone dying from rabies was horrifying. In the photos, Fredric's eyes were hollow, his face pale, lips black, and he looked lifeless.

Myra let out a piercing scream, "He was your brother. Why didn't you save him, why didn't you save him?"

"Bell was your daughter. Did you spare her when she begged you to? The moment she became rich, you were ready to skin her alive and suck out her blood, exploiting every ounce of value from her. You ask me why I didn't save him? Why should such a scum of society waste air by living?"

Bell died, and she wasn't even given the right to live. Her own family had cornered her, step by step. If Nathaniel was the executioner, then these people were the instigators. Bell was not even eighteen when she left home. From the moment Bell was born, they weren't thinking about how to raise her well, but

about how to exploit her.

For example, she was made to do the heavy work at home, and started washing clothes and cooking when she was just five or six years old. She was not even as tall as the stove and had to stand on a stool. If she didn't do well, she was beaten.

Why they sent Bell to school? Was it a sudden sense of parental duty, or a pang of guilt for being parents?

Neither.

It was because of the government subsidy for the poor. Bell could go to school for free, and if she did well, she could even get a scholarship.

Moreover, Myra thought that with some education, her daughter would "sell" for a better price.

Bell was only fourteen or fifteen when she finished junior high school. After that, they ran out of money, and Myra didn't allow Bell to continue her education. Fredric was twenty-three at the time, an age to get married. Myra planned to use Bell to get money for Fredric to buy a house and find a wife.

Ron, as a father, failed to fulfill his responsibilities. He was weak and only obeyed Myra's words.

Back then, Bell was discussed to marry her to a man who had lost his wife and was abusive.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

As for Fredric, Izabella went through Bell's memories and felt a chill from her heart. Fredric got off lightly by dying. When Bell was at school and in the bloom of youth, she was famously beautiful, naturally attracting a lot of attention.

Fredric and his gang would harass their own sister, paying a dollar each time they groped her under her clothes.

How did Bell protect herself from being tarnished in such an environment? Izabella didn't even dare to think about it. Even if Izabella were in her place, she wouldn't be sure she could survive as tenaciously.

In a word, it was better to be dead than to live like that.

But even Bell, who was so strong, ended up committing suicide in the end.

One never know how dark the world can be.

What's darker than the night is the human heart.

Izabella toyed with two coins in her hand and threw them in front of Ron, "You both seem to be in good spirits, so you should be able to live a few more years. Live well, for your beloved son."

Ron felt cold, his body shivering. Myra lay on the ground, struggling with the image of Fredric's death in her mind.

"As for your precious grandson,

Gary, I'll find him a good home and

change his name. From now on, you'll have no kids or grandkids. But looking at your state, you don't need anyone to take care of you. Begging on the streets suits you." After finishing her words, Izabella couldn't help but snicker, not even bothering to hide the coldness in her eyes.

She put on her mask, turned around, and left. The couple watched as she got into the kind of luxury car they could only dream of.

Money could solve a lot of problems, and for dealing with such scum, the best way was to strip them of what they cherish the most.

They've looked down on Bell since she was young. Then she would engrave Bell's image into their memory at their most desperate moment, so that they couldn't forget it even if they wanted to. Every time they thought of it, they would feel intense pain and lifelong regret.

From the moment this family took the train to J City, Izabella had been watching them. Letting them appear in public was an insult to the eye.

Izabella planned to deal with them as quickly as possible. She didn't care if her methods were clean or not, as long as they were effective.