The cop couldn't bear to break the news to Izabella that her dad was dead.

Brett, standing behind Izabella, spoke up, "Open the door."

The cop nodded, only cracking the door open. A strong smell of blood seeped out, and he stepped aside to let them in.

For the first time, Izabella was afraid to enter a room. She couldn't see inside, her mind replaying Alan's words to her on the phone. Brett gently guided Izabella inside the room.

As they entered, their attention was drawn to a stretcher tucked away in a corner, concealed by a pristine white sheet.

The sight of it caused Izabella to grip the handles of her wheelchair tightly, inadvertently reopening the wound on the back of her hand.

She attempted to rise from her seat, but Brett intervened, urging her to stay put. "Please don't move. Let me wheel you closer," he offered.

Izabella shook her head in disbelief, unable to accept the possibility that the person lying beneath the sheet was Alan. She muttered softly, "No, it can't be him." Alan had been an awful father, with a wicked temper and a penchant for favoring males over females, taking it all out on his daughter.

But when she was younger, he had held her, fed her baby formula, and changed her diapers...

Why did it have to turn out like this?

She opened her mouth, wanting to call out, "Dad," but couldn't make a sound.

Brett pushed her over to about one meter away from the stretcher, the smell of blood growing more intense.

Izabella stared blankly, her gaze shifting little by little from left to right, finally fixating on a ring on the exposed left hand beneath the sheet.

It was Alan's ring, his wedding ring with her mother. He had worn it for 27 years, never taking it off.

"Dad." She finally let out a sob, choking on her tears.

Izabella felt dizzy. She staggered as she tried to stand, leaning on the wheelchair handles. Brett reached out to steady her, but she pushed him away and struggled to move forward. After two steps, she collapsed to her knees.

Brett hugged her from behind, and she trembled with anguish in his arms.

Overwhelmed by despair, Izabella couldn't help but let her tears flow, her hands shielding her face. The weight of the situation threatened to crush her entirely.

Crawling towards the sheet, she stretched her left hand to slowly pull it down. As her eyes fell upon Alan's bloodied and contorted visage, she slumped into Brett's comforting embrace.

Deep within her, Izabella had always known the truth: Alan was dead. How could anyone survive a fall from a 30-story building? The final scene of the video replayed vividly in her mind - just as it did now - with Alan's face drenched in blood, fragments of his shattered skull scattered around.

She just couldn't bring herself to believe it, to accept that her father was gone.

Izabella choked through her tears, "Dad... I'll give you whatever you want... I'll hand over the company to you and my brother, I don't want anything anymore, just get up... I didn't mean to ignore you for those four days, I was locked up and didn't know you were in trouble. If you blame me, just get up and scold me... Dad, don't ignore me... Everything I said before was lies, I don't hate you..."

A twisted smile crossed her face as she choked out, "Look at you, you're usually so concerned about your image. Why are you covered in cuts? Your clothes are filthy too..."

Her voice barely audible, she mumbled, "Dad, it's too cold here. Get up and go home with me. I'll give you however much money you want."

A nearby cop interrupted, "Ms. Salotti, your father is dead. He fell from a thirty-story building and died on the spot. He's not waking up."

Izabella shook her head, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "No... he's just angry. This is what he does when he's mad. He pretends I don't exist, like I'm invisible. Just pretend to sleep and ignore me. He's always angry at me."

Turning her gaze towards Brett, she choked on her words, desperation evident in her voice, "Do you think he's deliberately ignoring me because he's angry with me?"

Brett remained silent, his eyes holding a mocking expression that pierced through her heart.

Panic surged within Izabella, overpowering her, and she could no longer restrain her tears, which cascaded down her cheeks uncontrollably.

Softly, Brett said, "Izabella, your dad is really dead. You knew that when you were in the hospital."

"No, I didn't know! He's not dead!"

"Brett, my dad's not dead!"

"He's always angry with me for taking everything from the Salotti family and marrying you. If I give the Salotti family back to him and divorce you, he'll wake up."

Brett's heart clenched at the mention of divorce, but he refused to even consider it. Even with Alan dead, he'd still bind her to him, making divorce impossible.

Brett firmly clasped her delicate wrists, preventing her from further movement. "Izabella, enough! I've already informed you that your father is no longer alive. Even if you were to give the Salotti family back thei name and divorce me, it won't bring him back."

"Let go of me, Brett!" Izabella directed her anger solely at him, her gaze filled with animosity.

The hateful look in her eyes pierced through him, and a dangerous glint flickered in Brett's own eyes. "What? You want to fight with me now?"

The word "fight" struck Izabella deeply. Brett had always belittled her screams and tears, dismissing them as mere tantrums, callously adding salt to her wounds without any concern.

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