Twisted Ties of Love

Aging alongside Izabella, what a luxurious desire, one that he dared not even entertain.

There was no retreat for him, only to bullishly charge forth, even if it was a wall in front of him, he would crash into it, bloodied and battered, rather than turn back.

"I haven't done anything wrong. I just loved her in my way," Brett's eyes were bloodshot and frightening.

"Is that how you treat her?" Liam, unable to control his emotions, clenched his fists, refraining from pointing his fingers at him, "Honestly, you've treated Ms. Salotti worse than you did Kaley. You cherished Kaley, you rushed to find a blood donor when she had a car accident, you gave her whatever she wanted, and you believed her no matter what she did. Even if she messed up, you easily forgave her. Do you remember how Ms. Salotti lost her first child, Mr. President? It was due to Ms. Cornett's false accusations, and you played a part in it!"

Did Brett not know that it was Kaley's doing? No, he knew. The evidence was right in front of him, yet he chose to side with Kaley.

From the moment Izabella was consumed by the fire, he came to a realization. It was not the fire that killed Izabella, but the cruelty of humanity and the indifference of the bystanders.

Liam still remembered Izabella at the charity gala, in a red dress, holding a glass of red wine, chatting and laughing with others. She was so confident and flamboyant, but to him, she felt alien.

Such a dazzling woman, worn down by years, made them forget her initial charm. All that remained was the memory of a bird with broken wings.

Brett's thoughts were muddled, the pain making him mentally unstable, his mind drifting back to the past, forcibly pulled back by Liam.

That was the image that haunted him on countless nights - Izabella in the hospital, suffering from depression, her eyes so broken that it couldn't be described as heartbroken, looking like an abandoned rag doll, her dark pupils covered with a thick layer of despair.

Brett tried to suppress the agonizing pain in his chest, but his trembling breath gave him away. His lips quivered, "That's all in the past."This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

"It's never been in the past. The past you think of is just your perception. Look at your fingernails, look at the scars on your chest. These haven't disappeared. How can you say it's in the past?" Liam's voice suddenly became subdued.

"President Windham, don't talk about what's good for her anymore. What she doesn't accept as good is not good."

With a bang, Brett couldn't control his anger, this time raising his fist and landing a punch on Liam.

His health was already deteriorating; coupled with a lack of sleep and the shock, the punch didn't hurt much when it landed, but the sudden motion still made Liam step back. His gaze remained calm, not startled by Brett's punch.

Liam's eyes were like calm lakes, quietly watching Brett.

After Izabella's death, he chose to speak the truth, saying a lot, but Brett took in very little. He was not a relationship counselor; he couldn't make a person give up a relationship and quietly await death. Brett's journey had been full of ups and downs, making it impossible for him to just wait for death, doing nothing.

Brett had fully inherited the Windham family's genes - he was aloof, ruthless, suspicious, and unpredictable. He was good at hiding them from outsiders, but those who knew him were aware that he was not a patient man.

Seeing Brett like this, Liam knew he hadn't taken his words to heart.

He suddenly found Brett pathetic and laughable, never understanding how to truly love someone till his death.

Had Izabella not given Brett chances? She had given plenty. She spent four years, and the rain falling from the eaves could have eroded a stone by then. She cast aside her pride, only short of kneeling and begging him to look back at her.

But Brett's actions disappointed her time and time again. The flower had already wilted, and now he thought of watering it, but it was too late.

After punching Liam, Brett coughed, clutching his chest, tears welling up and falling.

Liam said, "President Windham, let it go. Her world belongs to her; it has nothing to do with you."

Brett gave him a cold glance, "No, I'm not done yet. I want to prove to her that I'm right. I was wrong before but now I'm not. If you want to persuade me to give up, then get lost!"

Brett had been repressing his temper for years, but as people around him started leaving, he found it harder to control. He was always calm at work, hardly ever losing his temper with Liam. But now, he was telling Liam to get lost over a few "honest" words.

And it was not just a figure of speech. He meant it.

This time, Liam was taken aback. But he quickly regained his composure, a faint smile crossing his face as he bowed deeply to Brett.

"Thank you, President Windham, for your trust and care over the years. I'll submit my resignation tomorrow," with that, Liam slowly straightened back up, his gaze subdued, and walked past Brett towards the door.

If words were futile, then he'd rather stay silent.

Brett had been dominant for so long. Now, as the people around him left one by one, all he was left with was helplessness and regret.

He clenched his fist, watching the retreating figure of Liam, a bitter sensation welling up. Was he really wrong? He just used his own way to prove his love for Izabella. The "bet" was beneficial to Izabella, whether he lost or won, wasn't it?

If Izabella won, there'd be fewer obstacles between her and Casey. If she lost, it would be a lesson about human nature. The love of adults was about cutting losses in time.

On the other hand, he, regardless of win or loss, he couldn't get in Izabella's life.

He didn't lose to Casey's affection.

In fact, he had spent more time by Izabella's side than Casey. Unfortunately, the order of fate was cruel. The early bird got the worm, and even if he moved into that position later, he had to understand the principle of being in order of arrival.

Brett leaned against the wall, his legs bending as he slid down to sit on the floor. He sat there for four hours, from day to night, silently looking at the stars in the sky.

Brett tried to resist thinking about

Izabella and Casey getting their

marriage certificate, but the more be tried not to think about it, the more it haunted him, like a compressed spring that had been suppressed for too long, suddenly springing up with greater force.

Now, every time he thought of the name "Izabella", his tears would uncontrollably cascade down.

Izabella. If he knew it would be like this, why did he even start anything?

Deep down, Brett knew better than anyone that all of these actions were not only meaningless but would only make Izabella despise him even more.

Even Liam thought that the things he did to Izabella were unforgivable, not worthy of being pardoned.

More than just unforgivable, it was downright despicable. If he could go back in time, the first thing he would probably do was to kill his past self.

He knew he was wrong, and he wanted to correct his mistakes. He wanted to turn back, to give up, to quietly wait for death, and watch Izabella marry another man.

But his heart was so empty, like a broken paper window in the cold winter wind, the wind relentlessly pouring in, freezing him to numbness, prompting him to continue searching for something to fill the void, even if what he was searching for, was a thorny bush.

He remembered every word Izabella said to him, even in his dreams.

She said, "The world is beautiful, but I won't come back because of you."

She also said, "Brett, if you die, you will only tarnish my path of reincarnation."

If he died first, would he tarnish her path of reincarnation? He held his head, thinking about how none of the days Izabella was with him were genuinely happy.

The silence of the living room was broken by the vibration of a cell phone. He was suddenly awakened. The room was too dark, and he could not see his hand in front of his face. After adapting to the darkness he saw a glimmer of light blinking not far away.

He got up, ran over, tripped over the

coffee table, and fell to his knees right into the shattered pieces of a crystal vase. His hand pressed directly onto the broken shards, the pain of his bloodied hand was intense, yet he felt no pain as he serambled to pick up the cell phone on the floor.

He checked the phone, only to see a picture of a marriage certificate; Izabella was smiling, a face full of happiness.