Twisted Ties of Love novel Chapter 550

People who know their days are numbered fall into one of two extremes: those who accept a quiet death and those who, feeling life cheated them, harbor a vengeful spirit.

From what she knew of Brett, Izabella was sure he was the latter type.

The thirst for revenge can make a person pay any price to fill the void of resentment, even if it means enduring agonizing pain. At that final moment of death, there's a rush of excruciating satisfaction.

Memories of her past flickered in Izabella's mind as she clenched her fists, knuckles whitening, fingertips digging into her palm, but she was oblivious to the pain.

After a while, she released her grip, only belatedly feeling the sting in her hand as she studied the crescent marks her nails had left.

Casey was in the hospital. If she didn't respond, his already frail body might not hold out. Izabella longed to go back, but she knew she couldn't, not yet.

After reading his message, she typed a response, only to delete it and start over again and again, unsure what to say to Casey.

In the end, she settled for a brief reply.

— Doing okay. Don't worry. I'll be back.

The next day, Brett had two bikes ready. He pushed one towards Izabella and asked, "Can you ride?"

Izabella knew how to ride, although it had been ages and she might be rusty. But if she didn't ride herself.

Her gaze flicked to the bike's rear seat.

She took the handlebars. "Where are we headed?"

"Just follow me," Brett said, almost too casually.

The morning air was crisp, and cycling was not only good for the body but also for soothing nerves and unwinding.

As Izabella pedaled forward, she couldn't guess where Brett was taking her. The chill wind tousled her hair, a bit too cold for comfort.

Brett was underdressed, in a light sweater and no coat, leading the way on his bike, never more than two meters ahead, sometimes riding beside her.

The scenery was breathtaking, the kind of fresh air sorely missed in the congestion of the city. It was only then that Izabella realized how vast the Windham estate was—the whole hillside belonged to them.

Brett said it wasn't far, but they'd been riding for well over half an hour.

At first, it was easy, but fatigue set in, and Izabella had no energy to admire the surroundings. She watched Brett, who seemed to ride effortlessly ahead, biting back her irritation at his previous day's promise.

He said if she accompanied him, he would take her back to R City.

"We're here."

Having ridden this far, Brett's expression remained normal, but his complexion was somewhat pallid. He turned his head, meeting Izabella's gaze with a dim look in his eyes. Brett's eye sockets were deep, and his long eyelashes partially concealed his gaze, making it elusive.

Izabella looked up, glancing past Brett's figure; it was a quiet graveyard nestled among the hills, the final resting place of generations of the Windham family.

Brett leaned his bike against a tree and walked in, with Izabella hesitating before following.

Finally, he stopped in front of two tombstones.

After a silent vigil, Brett's lips curved into a sad smile. "Mom, Dad, I've brought someone special to meet you."

Izabella frowned but said nothing.

The tombstones bore photographs, waterproofed and regularly cleaned. Despite the years, the signs of time were evident.

Brett was the perfect blend of his parents' features, strikingly handsome.