"What?" Mrs. Felton seemed unable to understand what Presley was implying in his words, her face full of confusion and fear.
Presley calmly watched her face, then looked away and coldly said, "Izabella is dead. Mom, are you guys satisfied now?"
--"Mom, are you guys satisfied now?"
Upon hearing these words, Mrs. Felton shuddered as if she had been electrocuted, her fingertips trembling slightly and her eyelids turning red.
"How could Izabella die? How could she die?" Mrs. Felton asked incessantly behind him.
Presley moved his luggage and paused for a moment before saying, "Everybody dies eventually. She was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer three years ago and wasn't expected to live much longer. If I hadn't forced her to take her medication, she probably wouldn't have made it past two years."
Mrs. Felton's face turned pale, tears welled up in her eyes as she cried, "She was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer three years ago, why didn't you tell us?"
"Because she was afraid that you guys would worry so she asked me to keep it a secret. Mom, Izabella never did anything wrong to us, but what have we done to her?" Presley said.
"You guys knew that Brett was bad to her and he’s the culprit that ruined her family. So why did you help Brett fake evidence that she had a mental illness during her divorce trial?"
As Presley finished speaking, his emotions began to surge wildly again. He took a deep breath and yelled with a choked voice, "Do you have any idea what that meant to her? She was abandoned by the people she cared about the most, and we became the final straw that killed her!"
Presley's every word stabbed like a knife. Each time he thought about how his parents had been kicking Izabella when she was down in his absence, his heart ached as if there was blood stuck in his throat, ready to spit out at any moment.
Mrs. Felton lowered her head, her shoulders trembling, and her tears fell uncontrollably. She cried heart-wrenchingly.
How could this be? Izabella was dead, killed by their own doing.
As if unaware of the crying behind him, Presley resolutely pulled his suitcase and left.
Mr. Felton heard the sobbing and saw Mrs. Felton sitting on the doorstep with tears and snot pouring down her face. His heart raced, and he grabbed a few tissues to help his limp wife up.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
As Mrs. Felton leaned against him, her hands clutching his clothes tightly, she sobbed violently and shook her head, muttering, "Our dear Izabella. We once treated her as our daughter. She's dead."
Mr. Felton reacted faster than Mrs. Felton, but he still couldn't believe it. "Who told you?" He asked.
"Presley is going to J City to collect Izabella's body. You know how much he cares about Izabella; he wouldn't joke about such a thing to provoke us. It's our fault. We've hurt Izabella. If you hadn't testified in court for Brett back then." Mrs. Felton said.
Presley was right. They were the last straw that killed Izabella.
Mr. Felton's eyes reddened, and he regretted the series of wrong decisions they'd made. People didn't like to admit their mistakes easily, and they stubbornly believed that time would solve everything.
But they forgot that time could also change everything so that in the end, there wouldn't even be a chance to apologize.
Nobody liked Izabella when she was born. The Felton family initially took care of her out of pity. But as the young girl slowly grew up, their feelings evolved from pity to true fondness.
Mrs. Felton liked girls but couldn't have another child due to health reasons. Therefore, she treated Izabella as a daughter and even thought about marrying her off to Presley.
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