Chapter 280


    The indwelling needle stuck in Brett''s neck wouldn''t be fatal, it would only cause a momentary pain.


    Izabe tightly grasped the needle, as if holding a knife, she made a downward cut along the artery


    and blood flowed out.


    Brett grunted. He was not afraid of death, what he feared was Izabe leaving him.


    He gently bit Izabe''s lip and then let her go. He did not wipe the blood off his neck, but instead,


    took hold of Izabe''s trembling hand, "Your hand got dirty."


    She looked at her fingers, the blue veins were prominent on the back of her hand, and the tips were


    filled with thick blood. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and a single tear slid down her cheek,


    translucent and sparkling.


    Tears streamed down Izabe''s face, yet a ferocious smile was on her lips. She didn''t feel fear or


    sorrow, but was overwhelmingly excited, for she had finally hurt this man. However, to her, this was


    nothing.


    Brett wiped the tears from her face, "Izabe, just like today, I will wait for you to kill me, as long as


    you can do it."


    Izabe''s teeth gritted, her face turning icy. She suddenly burst intoughter, then started sobbing


    loudly like a child. She threw away the blood-soaked needle in her hand, leaned on the sink next to


    her, and stood up unsteadily, "I will definitely kill you. If I can''t, I''ll make you live in despair, just like


    me."


    Brett stood up with her, "If you want to kill me, you must live well."


    The wound on Brett''s neck was not deep. After disinfection, it could be casually bandaged.


    However, Izabe''s wound on her abdomen had torn open, fresh blood seeping out, staining her


    hospital gown red.


    Brett watched as the doctor frowned and treated her wound, throwing bloody cotton balls into the


    trash. The wound was ghastly, like a blood-red eye.


    How painful must it be? But Izabe didn''t even frown. She seemed to have listened to Brett''s


    words, took her medication on time, got IV fluids, and lived on.


    In the past, when taking medication, she could only swallow them one by one, scared of the


    bitterness, and would even eat candy after. Now, she could swallow several at once, and if she


    couldn''t swallow them, she would let them dissolve in her mouth and drink more water. She had


    long forgotten the sweet taste and had no intention to try it again.


    Brett had Tiara to take care of Izabe. The two of them sat together and talked, mostly Tiara spoke


    and Izabe listened. They didn''t mention the child, as if she had never been pregnant.


    On November 11th, Izabe was discharged from the hospital.


    After more than four months, her ragdoll cat seemed a little strange to her, hiding on the sofa and


    secretly observing her. When it saw Izabe sit down, it gathered the courage toe over and


    sniff, it was a familiar scent.


    "Meow." Niki called out, swishing her fluffy tail.


    Izabe scratched Niki''s neck andbed her fur. She had grown a lot, it was obvious that she had


    been well taken care of while Izabe was away.


    Niki enjoyed being stroked by her and rxedpletely, exposing her furry and round belly.


    Izabe gently stroked from her neck towards her belly.


    Ragdoll cats are generally gentle, and Niki was especially affectionate. She recognized Izabe as


    the one who raised her since she was a kitten, and became even closer to her, purring loudly.


    The inte in the vi was shut down on Brett''s orders. Izabe had a phone but couldn''t see any


    external news, as if something was being hidden.


    "Izabe, are you going upstairs?" Tiara asked, having long since reced the title "Madam" with


    "Izabe".


    Izabe nodded, setting down Niki in her arms. The vi was just as it used to be, though her room


    had undergone some minor alterations. The color scheme was now warm, with many more


    decorative paintings. One of them was of sunflowers, full of vitality.


    The weather was getting colder and colder. Izabe had to wear a down jacket andyer it with two


    sweaters to withstand the chill of winter.


    Returning to the heated vi, she felt warm. It was just right for Izabe once she took off her down


    jacket.


    Despite the heating on, she liked to keep the windows open. The cold wind cut into her face like a


    knife, leaving Izabe''splexion pale and devoid of life.


    Brett continued his routine of going to and from work, always returning early to keep Izabe


    company. However, their rtionship was bing increasingly cold and distant.


    Sleeping became a problem. Under Izabe''s resentful gaze, Brett couldn''t share a bed with her


    and had to sleep on a makeshift bed, far away on the sofa.


    Most of the time, Izabe was looking at a porcin vase, holding it in her arms when she was free.


    She would take a clean cloth and meticulously wipe it down, even though there was no dust on it.


    A week passed, and Izabe held the porcin vase as she told Brett, "Let''s bury it somewhere."


    "Alright," Brett agreed. He chose a cemetery, paid a substantial amount for a plot, and buried the


    vase.


    Izabe silently stared at the name "Bet" on the tombstone, her expression as dull and smoky


    as a cloud of smoke. She didn''t cry, for her tears had long since run dry.


    After returning home, Izabe acted as if nothing had happened. She took care of her health, and


    herplexion slowly started to improve, though her face remained pale as if it could not recover.


    She had be used to holding and wiping the vase, but now that it was buried, her hands always


    felt empty. In order to avoid this sense of loss, Izabe began to find things to do for herself.


    She washed her clothes, cleaned her bedroom and bathroom, and cooked her own meals.


    Tiara was always there to assist her, helping with tasks such as washing vegetables.


    Brett had given orders that Izabe could do whatever she wished as long as she didn''t harm


    herself, including going out.


    This time he didn''t restrict her freedom, but Izabe stayed obediently at home, never stepping foot


    outside as if she had be ustomed to a caged life.


    After Brett finished his work and returned home, he was greeted by the familiar aroma of food. This


    was a scent he had often smelled during those four years.


    "Who cooked today?" he asked the butler, his voice trembling slightly.


    "It was Madam," the butler replied.


    A tremor ran through Brett''s lips. Indeed, he saw Izabe bustling about in the kitchen with an apron


    on.


    For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating, that he had returned to four years ago.


    Back then, Izabe would cook for him, alwaysing back home no matter how busy her work


    was. The familiar smell of food, which he had sneered at and neglected during those four years,


    was now a taste he longed for even in his dreams.


    Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    As Tiara served the dishes one by one, Brett washed his hands and sat down eagerly.