Twisted Ties of Love
Chapter 118

Brett rushed into the elevator with a lunchbox and went straight to the fifth floor, finding many doctors and nurses crowding the hallway, comforting patients in their rooms.

As he was about to pass by, Brett heard people murmuring in the crowd.

"Someone from the psych ward upstairs escaped and bit a person. If the doctors hadn't arrived in time, it would have been disastrous."

"How bad is the injury?"

"She got her ear bitten. It's all bloody and hard to see, but it looks like her ear was almost bitten off."

"Shit-"

Brett's face turned pale, and he pushed through the crowd, running forward. His lunchbox was accidentally bumped and flew out of his hand, landing on the floor with a loud thud. The soup and food spilled all over the floor, turning the appetizing meal into a disgusting mess.

"Who the hell is that guy rushing like that? He didn't even apologize for bumping into people, and the mess all over the floor!"

Brett ignored the comments and continued running. He almost tripped, but managed to regain his balance and kept running. All he could think about was Izabella.

The door should have been closed when he left, but it was wide open now. Panic filled his heart as he burst into the room, "Izabella!"

Izabella, who was curled up in bed, looked up at him with a stiff expression. She seemed to see Brett in a frantic state for the first time.

Brett was panting, his clothes and pants soaked, his leather shoes muddy, and his hair was a mess.

Izabella almost forgot that he was obsessive about cleanliness.

"Are you alright?" Brett entered the room, carefully checking Izabella from head to toe. When he saw that she was unharmed, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had feared that she might have been the one bitter by the patient.

Izabella didn't respond, and just closed her eyes to continue sleeping.

With a bitter smile, Brett stood by her bedside.

His lunchbox had been spilled in the hallway, so he had to order takeout.

After placing the order, Brett looked at Izabella's sleeping face. He couldn't help but raise his hand to touch her eyes.

His hand had just been covered in soup, so he went to wash it clean before touching Izabella.

Though Izabella pretended to be asleep, she was very much awake. She had sensed Brett approaching and wanted to hide, but her body just couldn't move.

Brett gently touched Izabella's forehead and glanced at her clenched fist with traces of blood. He carefully held Izabella's hand, relaxing her fingers one by one to see the wounds in her palm. His lips pursed in anger.

In just a short time of his absence, she had already hurt herself.

After this incident, Brett didn't dare to leave Izabella again. He even had the takeout delivered to her room.

Izabella began to recover five days later. After completing her therapy, the psychologist called Brett for a meeting.

"Izabella has something to tell you. Her emotions are now under control. Don't push her, just listen to what she has to say. If you can, just listen instead of talking." The doctor had seen how sharp Brett could be with his words, enough to infuriate people and possibly make Izabella's condition worse.

"I know my limits." Brett went into Izabella's room, smiling. What could she want to tell him?

Izabella looked the same outwardly but seemed emotionally detached. Brett could feel that the burning passion she once had for him had disappeared.

Izabella sat up in bed, not looking at Brett but focusing on the floor.

Brett stopped at a safe distance from her, too afraid to get closer.

Finally, after a long silence, Izabella hoarsely asked, "Was it me who pushed Kaley?"

Brett's heart pounded with anxiety.

"I made a mistake, and you threw me off the stairs. What about her?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was my fault, and I've already made Kaley move out. I've warned her not to do anything like this to you again."

With a mocking laugh, Izabella looked up at Brett. "If I called the police, you'd surely protect her. If I wanted a divorce, you'd do everything you could to stop me." Brett's heart sank. "I won't divorce you."

"I know." Izabella's gaze shifted to the window bars, but it was not just them that trapped her body and soul.

"After all, I'm not dead in yours hands yet, so how could you let me go so easily?"

Brett tried to speak, but no words could explain himself.

Izabella clenched her lips with a trembling voice, "Brett, how many times do I have to die before you're satisfied?"

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