Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 559

"We can sacrifice anything to get Izabella back to the Dempsey family."Brett, with skepticism painting his voice, challenged them, "Even if the Dempseys go bankrupt? Even if she's penniless and her presence endangers your son's life? You still want her?"

Bunny, wise and unwavering, replied, "To Casey, Izabella is his lifeblood. Without her, he might as well be a walking shell. They adore each other, Brett. Loving someone isn't about keeping them close, it's about wanting their happiness above all."

Brett retorted, "Aunt Bunny, do you not remember Grandpa's teachings? Sentiment is for the weak. The Windhams prevail through pragmatism and cold calculation. It's our shield."

A bitter smile crept across Bunny's lips. "And how many Windhams have fallen because of that creed? Years of infighting, brother turning against brother, all for gain. To me, it's a tragedy. But not all who share Windham blood are like that. Leaving the Windham way can change a person."

As Brett's gaze followed a distant figure, his eyes were laced with pain and a network of red veins. He struggled to keep them open, but no matter how hard he tried, the figure remained a blur. His outstretched hand was pierced by the night's cold, his fingers tingling as if pricked by needles, the chill causing him to shiver uncontrollably. The sound of fireworks masked his choked breaths.

He pondered, had he left the Windhams earlier, abandoning thoughts of revenge, would he have been spared this cruel coldness, this selfishness? Could the outcome have been different? Would Izabella still be by his side?

They could have watched fireworks together in the winter. Shared a Christmas Eve apple pie. Made wishes under the Christmas tree. Had meals together on New Year's Eve. Cuddled on the couch watching the New Year's countdown. Exchanged "Happy New Year" at the stroke of midnight. He could have knitted her a scarf, braided her hair.

If only he had understood sooner, but life offered no reruns.

There's a saying that rings true—people always chase the best choice, but the pursuit often leads to unintended consequences.

"Izabella!" Brett's cry was a guttural scream, blood in his mouth unnoticed, as it trickled down his chin, a sharp pain tearing through his chest.

He had told her not to look back when he pushed her to leave, yet now he desperately wished she would turn, just for one final glance.

He ached for it, but the words wouldn't come. A muffled cough escaped him as he sank to the ground, his body collapsing under its own weight. He clutched his chest, looking at the warm droplets on his hand, but the darkness blurred his vision; he couldn't tell if it was blood or tears.

With his heart in his throat, he looked up at Izabella, his voice a broken whisper, "Izabella, turn around, look at me. I've done so many wrongs to you in this life, I can't expect forgiveness, but if there's another life, if I meet you sooner, I swear I'll treat you right." He knew she might be weary of his words, yet he still longed to speak them, to make amends for what he couldn't fulfill in this life, hoping for another chance.

Izabella paused, murmured something, and lifted her dress to walk forward. She didn't look back, her departure resolute.

Brett was at peace knowing she had been part of his final days, that she had worn that wedding dress, that he had crafted a ring to fit her finger, even though she had never worn it.

"Thank you, Izabella, for saving me once, for teaching me what it feels like to be loved, for indulging my last selfish wish, for proving my life wasn't just about hatred. Life is precious because the darkness makes the light all the more brilliant."

When Izabella said she "couldn't go on," Casey would not hesitate to move toward her.

Just like he always said, no matter where or when, whatever the circumstance, if Izabella reached out to him, he would embrace her with open arms.

"It's not about how many steps you take," he had told her, "just take one towards me, and I'll cover the other."

"Are your feet cold walking barefoot?" That was the first thing Casey asked, his gaze tender as he looked at her feet hidden beneath the hem of her dress.

Izabella shook her head, a laugh escaping her lips, "How did you know I was barefoot?"

"I know everything about you, including your height," Casey replied, having spotted at first glance that she wasn't wearing shoes.

Izabella's lashes fluttered, her eyes fixed on Casey, silent until he took her trembling, icy hand in his.

Grasping back, her nose red, she choked out, "I almost thought you were an illusion."

A tightness gripped Casey's chest, his eyes stinging, "You can keep asking me, to make sure I'm real."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Casey had grown thin, so thin that even in his heavy coat, he seemed to shrink against the dark, biting wind. His hands, always warm, were now barely warmer than her own.

The winter air was brisk, filled with the festive lights and balloons set up over the past few days. Firecrackers popped in the distance, and fireworks burst overhead, their fleeting beauty a stark reminder of life's impermanence.

It turned out all of Brett's actions over the past days were aimed at letting her go. His insistence that she leave wasn't just empty talk.

Brett had finally kept his word.

The booms of the fireworks were loud, accompanying Brett's distant voice, which seemed almost like an auditory hallucination.

Brett was a paradox of detachment and devotion. When he loved, he loved fiercely, ready to offer the world on a silver platter, eager to give anything that would please the apple of his eye.

Izabella didn't believe in second chances, not for love. If Brett truly changed, it wouldn't matter to her—she wasn't the kind to retrace her steps.

Some people, once missed, were missed for a lifetime. When love was gone, no grand gestures or sweet words could reignite it.

She and Brett had made the same mistake. They both fell into the abyss, clinging desperately to anyone who would reach out a hand.

Hand in hand, Casey and Izabella walked towards the car, the fireworks overhead illuminating everything beneath them.

"Izabella!" Brett's voice, raw and desperate, exploded from behind them, "Can you just look back at me once. If I meet you in the next life earlier."

Izabella halted but didn't turn around. She simply tilted her head up to admire the fireworks.

People always talk about the next life as if they could carry over unfinished business, much like how they expect tomorrow to fulfill today's promises, forever delaying, never completing. The difference is, tomorrow is almost certain, the next life is not.

"Maybe you said the same thing to me in a past life," Izabella whispered, her voice soft and melodic. She looked up, her lips pursed, eyes closed, "Brett, I wish you a life of peace and safety. May you always have the warmth of the sun in winter, a gentle breeze in summer, a prosperous journey ahead, free from illness and hardship. May you find true love and grow old together. From now on, let's live our lives without ever crossing paths again. May you find peace."