Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 606

Belle's eyes fluttered open to the sight of a ceiling lamp, so bright it seemed like the sun itself. It appeared close enough to touch, yet her fingertips grasped at nothing but air.

Once upon a time, Nathaniel had shone with a similar brilliance in her eyes.

Nathaniel sat nearby, buried in paperwork, oblivious to Belle's awakening. It wasn't until he finished and turned around that he saw her gaze fixed intently on the lamp above.

"Morning, Belle," he said casually, walking over to feel her forehead. No fever.

"Just listen to me and things will stay the same," Nathaniel said, his tone a mix of reassurance and warning. "I may treat you as her stand-in, but at least I'm not as cruel to you as I was to her."

Should she be grateful for that? His words were like a heavy chain, binding her, suffocating her, preventing even the simplest movements like spreading her arms.

What did his words even mean? To obediently play the part of Izabella, to be discarded at his whim, to endure all the pain silently?

Belle was only seemingly compliant. If she truly were the type to "just listen," she wouldn't be here. Instead, she would have stayed in some quaint little village, following her parents' wishes, accepting a dowry, marrying off, having children...

Nathaniel spoke again, "I won't keep you around forever. People get bored, you know."

He was telling the truth. Unlike Brett, Nathaniel didn't cling to what he couldn't have.

The Windhams all shared a trait – they were lofty and arrogant, prideful due to their superior circumstances. Everyone revolved around them, and they loathed contradiction.

So, when Belle mentioned leaving, Nathaniel felt not heartache but annoyance, the irritation of losing control over a prized possession.

He was always clear about his feelings.

Love was but a feather's weight in his eyes, any disturbance to his mood a barrier to his wealth accumulation.

He wouldn't touch emotions with a ten-foot pole.

Belle was clear about herself too. She knew the extent of Nathaniel's influence. Where could she, a mere nobody, run to?

A wrong move, a slight annoyance, and she could end up just like Izabella in those videos.

Nodding, Belle played along.

Nathaniel patted her head, a gesture that feigned intimacy but really aimed to maintain his superiority. To him, Belle was nothing more than a plaything.

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