Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 611

Bell had seen Brett's picture before, and she would recognize him in an instant.

But the man who stood before her now seemed more worn than his photograph, a shadow of gloom in his eyes, his every move exuding an air of detachment. It seemed he hadn't expected someone in the room. Sensing a stranger, his brows furrowed and his dark eyes locked onto the figure on the sofa. Their gazes met; his was sharp and cold, like a hawk's, while hers was timid, almost pitiful, like a deer caught in headlights.

Upon seeing Bell's face, Brett froze, memories bubbling up in his mind like fragile soap bubbles congesting his thoughts.

He took a couple of steps closer, his eyes hazy with a drunkard's focus, as if he could see nothing but the silhouette before him.

He called out a name instinctively.

"Izabella."

The name, buried in his heart for a year, shattered the illusion the moment it left his lips, like a bucket of ice-cold water waking him from a dream.

This wasn't Izabella. She wouldn't have that fearful, meek expression. Izabella of R City, with her innate pride, would never show defeat, even in ruins.

Besides... Izabella was dead... driven to her end by his own hands, a casualty of his arrogance and misjudgments.

She had used her death to haunt him, to ensure he lived in regret and pain.

Over the years, many had tried to place women by his side, all bearing one specific trait: they resembled Izabella.

And the woman before him now was the most striking likeness yet, her red dress stirring memories of their first encounter.

"Izabella had worn a red dress then too," he thought, remembering how she approached him with a candied apple and said, "Brett, it's been a while."

He wished he could hear her say those words just one more time.

But it was a wish in vain. They would never meet again.

"Mr. Windham..." Bell stuttered, unable to meet Brett's eyes, her head bowed.

Behind Brett, aside from Liam, were several bodyguards. Liam had heard the unfamiliar female voice from outside and sensed trouble brewing.

Everyone knew that "Izabella" was Brett's Achilles' heel, a sore spot that should have never been prodded, but today someone had exploited that weakness.

Upon entering and glimpsing the figure, Liam almost blurted out "Madam."

She was the spitting image of Izabella, so much so that one might wonder if she was a long-lost daughter of the Salotti family.

Brett's gaze grew colder. He had arranged the hotel himself, and for someone to sneak this woman in without notice meant her backing was no simple affair.

Putting aside her identity, her deliberate makeup, the dress she wore, it all pointed to a calculated move. Brett, ever the strategist, knew who'd be vile enough to disgust him like this: Nathaniel.

He approached Bell, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lighting one up. He used the lighter to lift her chin, "Who sent you?"

He was restraining his temper, but she was still visibly shaking.

No matter how much she resembled Izabella, she lacked her courage.

Disgust flashed across Brett's face. "Was it Nathaniel?"

Bell's eyelashes fluttered. "Yes..."

Releasing her, Brett spoke with icy indifference, "Don't ever mimic her again. You can't afford the consequences."

In an abrupt motion, he seized Bell's left hand and squeezed. Her scream echoed as her little finger snapped.

She had been afraid of men like him, and now the pain of a broken finger left her mind blank, her body sliding to the floor.

Disgusted, Brett ordered, "Throw her out."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify