Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 283

Brett pinched himself secretly, and after feeling the pain, he realized he wasn't dreaming. Izabella really came to the hospital to see him and even cooked soup for him.

"Is this really for me?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to eat my cooking yesterday? I didn't cook any dishes, but I casually made you some soup. After all, your hand injury was caused by me." Izabella said while opening the insulated cup. The hot steam carried a strong aroma that stung a bit.

"Do you want some?" she asked.

"I'll have it." Even if it was poison, he'd drink it without hesitation. Besides, Izabella was at home all the time; she had no chance to buy poison.

Brett naturally didn't believe Izabella would be so kind as to make soup for him and bring it personally. But there was always a little bit of a beautiful fantasy in his heart, hoping that Izabella had a little care for him as well.

This careful fantasy was like holding a treasure in his hand, afraid of breaking it, and afraid of melting it when holding it in his mouth.

Izabella poured the soup out, and it was even darker than when she first cooked it. The ingredients were common, but somehow the color turned out this dark when she cooked it.

"Brett, aren't you afraid it's poisonous?" Izabella's calm expression was frightening.

Brett's hands were inconvenient with the IV needle, and he ate the soup while sitting still on the bed. "I'm scared, but I trust you."

Izabella put the soup on the bedside table, "If I tell you it's poisonous, and I made it with great care and hatred, hoping you'd die immediately, would you still have it?"

Izabella felt the inner demon inside her excitedly shouting.

The last time she said "love" to Brett, it seemed like it happened just yesterday. And today, she wanted to kill this man.

Tiara had been persuading Izabella to let go for the past month, saying that once a person is controlled by hatred, they're destroyed. But she had been ruined by Brett long ago.

Looking at Brett staring at the bowl of soup, Izabella sneered and got up, "I'm leaving; have someone clean this up."

Izabella left, and Brett watched the bowl of soup with a bitter smile.

He ate half of it.

He was gambling that Izabella couldn't bear to hurt him, so the soup couldn't be poisonous.

But Izabella was also gambling that the man she hated to the bone would never believe her, even when he just said he trusted her. How ironic.

Sure enough, she won.

Not long after Brett drank the soup, his stomach began to burn with pain. Within a short time, cold sweat soaked his back.

His face turned pale, and he leaned over the side of the bed to vomit. He was dizzy, and it felt like something was stirring in his stomach.

Brett's reaction scared the bodyguards and Adrian, who quickly called the doctor to check on him. For a time, the ward was crowded.

As for "escaping," Izabella had already practiced it quite well. But she didn't plan to run at this moment. After leaving the hospital, she found a phone booth to make a call.

She had always had a keen sense of numbers, which was probably related to her job before her amnesia.

Izabella called Nathaniel and waited for four rings before he picked up with a lazy male voice.

"Hello?"

"Nathaniel, I'm willing to go with you."

It took a while before he laughed, "I heard that Brett is hospitalized, and his left hand is half-disabled. You did it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, maybe he's poisoned by now."

Nathaniel was surprised. He didn't expect such a weak-looking woman to be so bold.

"The old man would be furious if he knew."

If possible, Izabella didn't want to turn to Nathaniel either. She felt he was no better than Brett.

But without any other acquaintances since her memory loss, she couldn't compete with Brett and had to turn to Brett's "enemy."

The enemy of an enemy is a friend. If Brett wasn't lying, Nathaniel should be the man who wanted to defeat him the most.

"Izabella, I don't want you anymore. I prefer watching you two kill each other rather than seeing Brett lose you in a fit of rage."