Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 593

However, before he could even process what was happening, a figure descended the staircase with a gentle cadence, her voice soft as butter, "Lucas, bring your friend inside, will you? Don't just stand out there."

Brett looked up, his pupils constricting, fists clenched at his sides. This was Izabella's mother.

He had seen her before, on a gravestone, in a photograph; he recognized her features. Izabella bore a striking resemblance to her mother, but with a key difference: Izabella's gaze held a stubborn sharpness, a reflection of her resilience, while her mother's eyes were tender, brimming with emotion.

The sight of her sent Brett into a surreal daze, his body freezing as if struck by a spell.

In a desperate attempt to snap out of it, Brett tried to numb himself with pain, clawing at his own palms until they reddened, but the scene before him remained unchanged.

Lucas came over and tugged at Brett, "Come on, dude..."

But Brett jerked his hand away, his voice strained as he asked, "Don't you have a sister?"

There was still that sliver of hope in Brett's heart. Maybe his second chance had triggered a butterfly effect. Perhaps Izabella, like him, had a complete family. Maybe her mother hadn't died in childbirth, maybe she had loving parents, maybe she, like any other kid, like him, had the care and affection of both a mother and a father.

He was waiting for a confirmation.

"What are you on about? I'm an only child, man. Sister? No way."

Brett staggered backward, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears. How could this be... Lucas has no sister? What about Izabella?

Where was Izabella?

The name Izabella echoed through his mind as he suddenly slapped himself hard across the face.

"Snap out of it, wake up..." he muttered to himself, slapping his cheek with a sharp crack.

A hand caught his, and he looked up into Yolanda's worried eyes.

Lucas, meanwhile, was completely stunned by Brett's erratic behavior, unsure of how to react.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she asked softly.

Brett gripped her hand as if it was his lifeline, his voice hoarse and choked, "Do you have a daughter? Tell me, please!"

Even though Lucas was scared, he rushed to his mother's defense when Brett started yelling, pushing Brett away and standing protectively in front of her. "Don't you dare scream at my mother! We don't want you here, get out!"

Yolanda, after a moment of brief confusion, looked down at Brett, who seemed like an animal caught in a trap, his whole body shaking.

She had indeed been pregnant once, and it was supposed to be a daughter. Her family knew, but it was never spoken of outside their home. How did this boy know?

Brett's eyes were bloodshot, a mixture of fear and desperation within them.

"Lucas, I'm fine," Yolanda said softly, patting her son's head.

Alan, hearing the commotion, came downstairs, asking anxiously, "What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," Yolanda reassured her son and husband, trying to calm them down.

Yolanda locked eyes with him, her voice hoarse with emotion, "I've had my share of arguments with my husband over this child."

But Yolanda didn't see it that way. Their opinions clashed, and they fought over the baby growing inside her.

With that, Yolanda broke down completely, covering her face as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Even four years later, she could still vividly recall the little girl in her dream, wearing a red dress, hugging her waist and calling her 'mommy'.

It was just a dream, but it felt so real to her. She called her "Izabella."

The child in the dream obediently replied, "Mommy, I'm Izabella, your Bella. Mommy, I love you, so very much. But I can't be your daughter in this life."

Her Bella was so understanding it was heartbreaking.

After the dream, Yolanda miscarried the next day. Oddly, she knew miscarriages were supposed to be painful, but she didn't feel much pain, and her body wasn't greatly harmed. After the loss of the child, Alan got a vasectomy to prevent any future pregnancies.

Brett, upon learning all that had transpired, felt as if his senses had left him, as if he was isolated from the world.