Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 557

Life isn't just a series of hardships, is it? No, there's hope and even moments of joy to be squeezed out of the most unlikely places.

Brett's memory was a fickle thing. Sometimes it was sharp as a tack, allowing him to vividly recall trivial events from the deep past. Other times, it failed him to the point where he couldn't remember where he'd left his phone moments before.

But his memories of Izabella? Those were crystal clear, likely because he dwelled on them so much.

In the wee hours of the night, when sleep eluded him, his brain would uncontrollably dredge up past miseries. Some memories were so cringe-worthy they made his skin crawl, while others were so painful they made him clench his fists and scream into the darkness.

Happy thoughts were hard to come by, and upon reflection, he realized he didn't have many joyous occasions to ponder over in his life.

Izabella had stayed by his side not out of lingering affection but because of his threats.

Now that his leverage was gone, she was ready to leave without a backward glance.

He had tried countless ways to keep Izabella close – locking her up, threatening her family, surrounding her with surveillance cameras. While he could cage a person, he couldn't cage a soul longing for death.

He had been a madman, his methods cruel. Sometimes the mere thought of his past self sent chills down his spine and kept him awake all night.

Those four years after they first married, that was the window where love could have blossomed between him and Izabella. Instead, he squandered the time, creating a lifetime of unrequited longing.

Brett thought he could make amends. If he could just shed his vices and show genuine affection, perhaps he could earn her empathy.

But reality is often cruel, and Izabella had fallen for someone else – the man she should have loved from the beginning.

The thought of her speaking tenderly to another man, lying in his embrace, cooking him meals, dressing in a wedding gown for him – it all felt like a dull ache emanating from his heart.

As he envisioned these scenes, the pain spread to every corner of his body, leaving even his scalp tingling with discomfort.

"If I had known then what I know now," the saying goes. And it applied not just to Izabella, but to himself as well.

"I hope you live, Brett, because as long as you're alive, the world's sorrows won't spare you," Izabella had said.

With a twitch of his expression, Brett responded, "Then I'll take that as your wish for me to live."

The topic of life and death was too heavy, so Brett changed the subject. "It's Christmas Eve."

The house was fully lit, even the storage room. From the outside, it appeared as the brightest spot in the neighborhood – a beacon visible from afar. Yet the festive lights set up around the property had yet to serve their purpose, as the night was illuminated by street lamps.

Izabella heard it too but didn't react; it wasn't unusual for various people to visit – workers, doctors. Another vehicle wasn't out of place.

"Thank you for saving me that Christmas Eve," Brett suddenly said, his gratitude delayed. Izabella's act of rescue had haunted him for years, and though he had repaid Casey by taking a bullet, he owed her still.

Izabella replied, "I didn't know it was you in the water that Christmas Eve. I would have saved anyone."

Unbeknownst to her, that act of heroism had captivated Brett for years. His lips curled into a slight smile.

"I have one last gift for you, Izabella." As he spoke, the lights flickered off, plunging the room into darkness.

Izabella, slightly afraid of the dark, steeled herself. Crossing her arms, she sought comfort in the protective gesture.

The darkness was intense, silent enough to hear her own heartbeat.

But Brett, accustomed to the shadows, found Izabella's position. He could have reached out, pulled her close, embraced her one last time. But he didn't. His extended hand fell to his side.

He silently counted down in his mind, the numbers ticking away like the steady beat of a drum.