Izabella's chin was almost dislocated and tears uncontrollably rolled down her cheeks as she squinted her eyes.
Brett frowned and loosened his grip on her. "Why are you crying? If you want to kill me, you're that scared just because I asked? If you're so afraid, why are you plotting against me?"
Izabella collapsed on the bed, unable to control herself. She hated her own incompetence for not being able to kill the person who hurt her.
When Izabella cried, there was no sound. When she cried too hard, she would choke, and it was difficult to listen to.
Brett pried open Izabella's clenched hands and tucked her into the blanket.
Izabella kept crying, the recent events were like a nightmare to her.
Brett's heart ached, and he grabbed a tissue to carefully wipe her face.
She was as timid as a cat, daring to choke people but not admitting it. He said he wouldn't blame her, but she still cried.
Her face was deathly pale, making her eyes look even more red. Brett lifted her chin and gently kissed her lip, a quick, gentle move without any hint of ambiguity, as though it was a simple comfort.
"Izabella, do you really hate me that much?" Brett asked with a bitter smile. "You hate me so much that you get up in the middle of the night trying to strangle me. Do you really think you could kill someone with that kind of strength? You're the epitome of naive and foolish."
Izabella looked at Brett, her mouth opening slightly. It felt like her throat was stuffed with cotton, unable to swallow or spit out.
Although she didn't say a word, her eyes contained immense hatred. Brett knew better than anyone how much Izabella hated him.
It seemed like her eyes were filled with not tears but blood-thirsty intent.
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