Twisted Ties of Love
Chapter 121

Brett could tell that Izabella was in a bad mood right now, so he tried to change the subject. "Now you're alone at home, do you want to hire a maid to take care of you?"

"I don't need anyone to look after me." Izabella listlessly sipped the broth from her bowl.

"You can choose the maid yourself, it would be good to have someone at home to chat with you." He was sincerely considering Izabella's needs, her psychologist also stated that her current condition was not completely recovered and she needed someone to be with her.

But he couldn't always be by her side. He hadn't gone to the company in a month, and a large pile of documents needed his signature and some social events required his presence.

After Izabella was discharged, she indeed changed. The formerly gentle and mild-tempered woman would now inexplicably lose her temper.

Before her illness, when she was angry, she would just taunt Brett, but now she would hide in a corner concealing her emotions. If she was left unattended for a while, several new self-inflicted wounds would appear on her hands.

Izabella clearly did not want his sympathy. "If you could be gentler when you hit me, I would already be doing much better."

Once domestic violence starts, it doesn't stop. Brett used to slap her, but since the Salotti family went bankrupt, he has been less and less respectful towards her, now even more so.

Falling from such a high place, anything could happen. She could hit her head, and she could have had a cerebral hemorrhage. Losing a child like she did was considered a lighter consequence. Brett glanced at her, lowered his head, and sipped his broth.

Izabella propped her face with her hand, looked at the food on the table, her thoughts had long since drifted off somewhere else. Brett saw that she hadn't even touched her food, his brows furrowed slightly. "you don't like it?"

"I don't have an appetite," Even delicious food tasted like nothing right now, she couldn't swallow.

"You still need to eat, otherwise how will you have the strength to go out? Do you want to stay home forever?"

Izabella didn't reply.

After lunch, Brett took the dishes to the kitchen, opened the fridge and looked at the fruits bought today. There were fresh berries in it.

He washed a plate and placed it in front of Izabella. Having cared for Izabella for a month, he had developed a habit. He skillfully held the berry by her lips, "Try it."

Izabella frowned, her face showing impatience, she turned her face away, "Disgusting."

Brett looked calm and indifferent. "This is how I fed you in the hospital."

"I won't eat it."

Brett chuckled, throwing the berry in his hand into the trash can, pulling out a tissue to wipe his hands. "If you don't want to eat, that's fine. But you should eat more fruit. You can't eat nothing."

Brett had a cleanliness obsession, and wasn't used to taking care of people. For someone as lofty as him, to feed someone else to eat, it was shocking.

Brett was not someone who didn't do any housework, but his methods were not very adept. After washing the dishes, he took out his phone and called Liam to arrange a maid to come over. The age should be similar to Izabella's, and she should be diligent and honest.

Finding a 20-something excellent maid is not a easy thing, especially with Brett's high requirements. After hanging up the call, Liam went to fulfill his task.

Izabella sat on the couch outside, she heard everything clearly.

She didn't feel that Brett was considerate. She felt irritated. She clearly said that she didn't need anyone to look after her, but he insisted on arranging someone to come home.

On the surface, it was to keep her company, but in reality, it was to monitor her actions, just like a prisoner.

Izabella was growing more and more agitated, her stomach beginning to hurt. She sat with her knees up on the couch, her chin resting on her knees, her body curling up.

After Brett finished the call and came out, he saw Izabella staring at the stairs. His heart jumped, worried that staring at the stairs would evoke her fear from that day.

When he walked over, he realized that Izabella's eyes were blank. She seemed to be staring at the stairs, but she wasn't really seeing anything. She was just aimlessly looking at a spot, lost in thought.

"Izabella." He called her.

Izabella came back to her senses and turned her face to the window on the left.

Izabella was holding a grudge against him. There were many barriers between them, and just the matter of the two lives lost was enough to keep them apart. When the doctor hypnotized Izabella, what Brett thought about was how to make Izabella lose her memory.

But even if Izabella forgets those things, he will never be able to forget.

Like that staircase. Even though it had been cleaned, he felt as if it was still covered in blood. He could even feel a small ghost floating around - his child's.

Brett rubbed his temples. He must have been too exhausted recently to be thinking such nonsensical thoughts.

However, he understood why Izabella would look out the window and feel like a child was crying when she was sick. Because that sound was coming from her heart.

The next morning, Brett called Izabella to eat. He found a pair of shorts and jeans for her to change into and took her to Happy Nest Orphanage.

Izabella propped her chin and looked out the window. Seeing a cake shop, she asked Brett to stop by the side of the road.

"Stop the car, I want to buy some cakes."

Hearing her, Brett parked the car by the side of the road and they both entered the cake shop.

Izabella remembered that she had promised Ryker to bring him something tasty. On the way, she saw this cake shop, and cakes would be easy to carry into the orphanage. She bought sixty portions in total. Brett put the bags of cake in the trunk.

It was Brett's first time visiting an orphanage. He had heard years ago that Izabella had sponsored many orphans, which slightly changed his impression of her.

From the passenger seat, Izabella glanced at the signpost for the orphanage. "I want to go alone."

Brett glanced at her. "Why? Do you feel like I'm embarrassing you?"

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