Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 200

He thought Izabella would only get some minor injuries, those people wouldn't give her a hard time, and he could save her in no time.

But everything turned out completely differently from what he expected. He couldn't describe this feeling. Nothing was in his control and the world was collapsing.

Was this what "regret" felt like? He had never done anything in his life to make him "regretful." Even if he felt unwilling, he could quickly calm himself down. He was so confident that when he saw Izabella covered with life-support instruments, he completely lost his sanity, miscalculating for the first time in his life.

Brett felt as if something shattered inside his heart.

"Izabella, Izabella," Tears blurred his vision as he gently held Izabella's hand and called her name one after another, trying to wake her up.

He didn't make much noise when he cried, just tears running down his cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me you had stomach cancer? Why did you lie to me!" His brain was a mess, and the only belief that supported him completely disappeared, making it difficult for him to breathe.

In the quiet ICU room, all that was left was Brett's heavy, mournful breathing. They never knew a man's repressed cry could be so sad and desolate, as if all his pain could be cried out.

The medical staff present couldn't bear to look. The crazy Brett from just before seemed like almost an illusion.

At this point, any comforting words were useless. Izabella, now in a vegetative state, had shattered his pride.

Brett was crying, but he did not feel it. Only when he touched his face that he realized he was in tears.

He stared at the tear stains on his fingertips, unable to recover his senses for a long time. The last time he cried like this was when his parents died.

The place was filled with stifling despair, which made him afraid to stay. But he couldn't leave; he had to be with Izabella until she woke up.

Brett stood up, his legs numb, and a rush of weakness caused his vision to darken. He leaned on the bedside to steady himself.

After a while, Brett asked, "She will wake up, right?" It wasn't a question, but a confirmation.

The doctor hesitated for a moment and nodded, "If the patient's will to survive is stronger, maybe she will recover in the future." He said it very tactfully because the chances of a person in a vegetative state waking up were very low. And with Izabella's stomach cancer, she might not even wake up before she died.

God punished his arrogance in the most brutal way.

The phone on the table vibrated. Brett looked over and saw the caller was Kaley.

A sense of indescribable fatigue arose from his heart, but Brett finally answered.

"What's wrong?" His voice sounded hoarse.

Kaley could hear the hoarseness in Brett's voice and asked with concern, "Brett, why is your voice so hoarse? Did you catch a cold?"

"No, what do you want?"

“Brett, I'm scared. Can you come over and be with me?" In the photos, Kaley's injuries seemed quite severe, but comparing to Izabella's injuries, Kaley just had minor wounds. She had a fractured right hand and other superficial injuries that could be fully healed.