Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 600

After dinner, Nate left for the night, not planning to stay over. Bella watched from the doorway, her gaze lingering until the last gleam of his taillights vanished into the darkness. With a heavy heart, she turned back inside.

In her bedroom, Bella approached the bathroom mirror with a first aid kit in hand. She gingerly slipped off her red dress, revealing the stark burns on her back that stung with each movement. Facing her reflection, the sight of five searing marks was a harsh reminder of the pain.

She disinfected the wounds with iodine, wincing as the antiseptic made contact. Clenching her teeth to suppress a groan, her eyes welled up with unshed tears as she delicately cleaned each injury with a cotton swab.

Did Nate love her?

There's a saying that one of life's greatest illusions is believing someone feels for you differently than they do.

If he didn’t care for her, would he have brought her to such a fine house to live in? If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have paid for her college tuition or arranged for her to take violin lessons. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have bought her all those lovely red dresses or given her such a beautiful name.

Izabella—meaning a fresh start, to be known and loved anew. How wonderful that was.

Bella mustered her spirits. She loved Nate, and she could endure his hurts, but deep down, she feared the pain and longed for someone to cherish her.

"It's okay... it's all okay," she consoled herself, believing the pain would fade once the wounds healed and the scars stopped aching.

After washing her face and returning to the bedroom, Bella couldn't lie flat on her back due to the burns. Careful not to stain the "expensive" mattress, she had thoughtfully placed a plastic bag beneath her. The slightest movement rustled loudly against the plastic.

Curled up, hands cradling her head, her body bent like a shrimp—a position that spoke volumes of her lack of security. Even in sleep, she was restless.

In her dream, Nate abandoned her. She curled up beside a trash can, as pitiable as the stray cats that roamed the streets.

But dreams are just that—nightmares often nothing more than fears expressed in another form.

Bella believed if she just obeyed, if she bore the pain, she could stay by his side forever.

What she didn't realize was that, to Nate, she was always replaceable, no different from a stray dog on the street—perhaps even less, for she was merely a stand-in.

Arriving at the grand Windham family estate, Nate stepped out of his car to be greeted by the stoic butler, Albin, who addressed him with a deferential, "Master Nate."

Nate acknowledged with a nonchalant "Hmm. Is Grandfather still awake?"

"He's waiting inside for you. He wishes to speak with you."

Nate had anticipated this day and was not surprised, though Bella's image flitted through his thoughts unexpectedly.

"Alright," he replied.

And while other men of his age enjoyed their grandchildren, Patrick only had Albin to speak with.

"I know you're keeping someone on the side."

The revelation caused Nate's gaze to darken. Nothing escaped Patrick's notice.

"The girl's nothing but a fling," Patrick intoned, his voice like gravel. "She's not fit to be seen with you in public. You know that."

Nate did know. His mother had been no different from Bella. He lowered his lashes, hiding his emotions.

"I'm aware," he said quietly.