Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 596

Brett had a dream, a dream that seemed to stretch on forever.

In it, he saw a woman whom he'd married. She had cooked for him, cared for his every need for four years, and all he'd ever given her was a cheap $30 ring and a marriage certificate.

She, on the other hand, had endured blood draws more than fifty times over those years. Why would she need to have so much blood taken? Wouldn't losing that much blood be fatal?

In the dream, he watched himself treat her terribly, wanting desperately to intervene and stop "himself" but finding it impossible.

He saw her bleeding profusely, being rushed to the emergency room, signing the critical condition notices, kneeling in the rain, the undigested scraps of paper washed from her stomach, the stillborn child removed from her womb, her broken leg, the countless scars, her split fingernails...

"Please, don't do this to her, I'm begging you."

But the dream version of himself heard nothing, carrying on in his delusions, as the list of transgressions unfolded before him, until finally, the woman died in a fire.

"God, if I could trade her happiness in the second half of her life for my own, I would live a life of yearning without ever receiving."

Later in the dream, he saw her dressed in red bridal wear, walking towards her destiny, and eventually with two children by her side. There couldn't be a better outcome than this.

What was the woman's name? What did they call her? He couldn't seem to remember...

A suffocating feeling gripped his chest, and Brett's eyes snapped open to a blur of white, the air filled with the scent of antiseptic.

"Son, you're awake... You finally woke up... Look at your mom."

His voice was barely there as he opened his mouth, trying to say "Mom."

A throbbing pain in his head made him want to clutch it, but he was stopped, "Don't move, you have an injury on your head."

After the accident, Brett had a brief bout of amnesia. It took him a moment to remember that he should have died, but somehow, he'd been given a second chance, thrown back to when he was seven years old. And the accident... had he saved his parents?

Had he really saved them?

He looked left and right, touching, feeling the real presence of his parents who hadn't perished in the accident. They were truly still there.

Brett had been asleep for two weeks, and the odds of waking up were slim. With a head injury, he could have easily ended up in a vegetative state or paralyzed.

But Brett woke up without any discomfort, not even a concussion. His reflexes were as sharp as ever.

"The doctors said you might have amnesia because of the head injury. Is there anything you can't remember?"

Brett looked at his parents, furrowing his brow. He felt like he had forgotten something important, yet at the same time, he hadn't.

His mind was blank except for a persistent thought, "Maggie is safe, never to be seen again."

A sudden pang hit his heart, but quickly faded away.

The Windham family's eldest grandson had an accident, and those who heard the news came to visit - distant relatives and business partners.

Since they were at R City Hospital, the Salotti family, who had business dealings with the Windhams, also paid a visit.

Looking at his family, Brett felt a sense of familiarity but couldn't place it.

Lucas, a chatterbox and outgoing by nature, saw Brett sitting up in bed looking fine and blurted out, "Dude, you're like a cat with nine lives, surviving such a nasty gash on your head..."

His tactless comment earned a swift rebuke from Yolanda, who yanked her son back and handed him over to Alan, "Keep an eye on your son."

A wife's command was not to be ignored.

"It's nice to see you again."

"Have we met?"

Yolanda paused, met by the confused gaze of the young boy, and with a soft smile, she said, "Let's just say it's our first time meeting."

"Oh," Brett replied, sensing a familiar warmth in the woman's eyes.

The Salotti family didn't linger long in the hospital room, exchanging a few words with Brett's parents and leaving a gift of goodwill before departing.

Yolanda stumbled out of the hospital, and Alan, seeing her pale, tried to support her but was pushed away.

"Leave me alone, don't touch me." Her words were followed by a torrent of tears as she collapsed outside, overcome by grief.

Alan stood helplessly, while Lucas was equally stunned, not knowing how to comfort his mother.

When she was three months pregnant, she dreamed Rachel's daughter would grow up as a cherished little princess, not maltreated by anyone.

Izabella's death was a suicide, but every case that looks like suicide on the surface is a homicide. Who had driven her step by step to her death?

Even after her daughter was reborn and started a new life, she still clung to the past, unable to forget.

Watching his wife cry so heartbrokenly, he knew nothing he said would matter at this moment. All he could do was hang his head and apologize, "I'm sorry for her. I've wronged our daughter. It's my fault."

This apology and "regret" came too late in life, and it was useless. The one who truly wanted to hear it couldn't.

Yolanda wiped away her tears, looked up to the sky, and whispered, "Bella, my darling, are you satisfied with the outcome now?

Those entangled with you have forgotten you; is mutual forgetting the way to everlasting peace, Maggie?

Late affection is more worthless than weeds; a summer quilt can't wait for winter, and a winter fan can't wait for summer. A sunflower watered with blood, even yearning for the sun, is still drenched in crimson.

A gentle breeze caressed her face, and the sound of the wind whispered in her ear, a tender voice emerged in her mind.

"Mom, thank you."

From then on, the Salotti family was without a daughter; there was no more Ms. Izabella. The Izabella who once dazzled so many in R City with her stunning red dress, faded away from this world, clean and complete.