Chapter 307


    Nathaniel pinched his cold earlobe, wondering how much it would hurt if it was forcibly torn off by


    someone?


    Nine years ago, Izabe had jumped into the water to save someone without any hesitation. She


    probably would never have imagined in her lifetime that she would be harmed by the person she


    had saved, leading to the destruction of her family and her being covered in scars. In the end, she


    could only sit in a wheelchair and watch as the fire approached her.


    What a naive girl, she hated the cold but still plunged into the water to save someone in the dead of


    winter.


    Fate was always against her, but she never gave up her kindness. She treated others well, but fate


    never treated her kindly.


    If trusting the wrong person was a crime, she didn''t deserve to die.


    Brett didn''t deserve death, he only deserved to live in pain.


    In the past, Izabe wanted to live more than anyone else, but herter life was worse than death.


    She was a frequent visitor to the hospital, having been notified of her critical condition countless


    times. She once begged him to kill her.


    Izabe had experienced countless pains, and thest one was called relief.


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    ...


    Brett was kneeling on the ground, his mouth full of blood. He didn''t know when Nathaniel had left.


    He knelt there, one hand covering his stomach, the other over his mouth, with a warm, sticky


    difort in his palm. He stared nkly at his right hand stained red with blood.


    The pain in his stomach was unbearable, like being entwined with thorns, sharp thorns stabbing


    from the inside out, causing his stomach to spasm as if it was about to split open.


    Izabe hated pain, yet she had been tormented by such pain for three or four years. Why didn''t he


    believe her when he saw her vomiting blood? She was obviously in so much pain, why did he think


    she was faking it?


    Brett clutched his stomach, his body trembling with pain. He was good at enduring pain, no matter


    how painful, he could grit his teeth and make no sound. When he couldn''t bear it any longer, he


    vomited again.


    His stomach was convulsing, and what he vomited out was either blood or gastric acid, burning his


    throat. His eyes were red, the viscous blood on the ground formed a red pool, and the smell of


    blood was overwhelming.


    Brett gritted his teeth, muttering crazily, "So, this is how painful a stomachache can be. Vomiting


    blood really feels like losing half of your life. This is what Izabe has been going through all these


    years."


    Brett only felt like his belly was being cut by thousands of knives, and every time he vomited blood,


    his throat tasted incredibly bitter, like crushed medicine stuck in his throat that he couldn''t swallow


    or vomit.


    How did Izabe, who hated bitterness so much, manage to endure all this?


    He suddenly remembered a sentence Izabe had once said to him.


    —"Brett, I''m someone who''s so afraid of pain, yet I dare to love you. How have you treated me


    then?"


    Yes, how had he treated her? Brett covered his sour and painful eyes, sobbing until he was out of


    breath.


    Those years when he was drinking and socializingte, Izabe was worried that he would get a


    stomach problem, so she would make him soup to sober up, warming him from the inside out.


    And how did he treat Izabe? When Izabe carefully brought him water and begged him to drink,


    he would ssh it in her face if he didn''t like it.


    And Izabe neverined, she was someone who was used to enduring pain. Despite her


    tired body, she would still treat him well the next day.


    He missed Izabe, more than he ever had. He wanted to go back to find her, to be with her. He


    wanted to treat Izabe better in the future.


    Brett staggered to his feet and opened the door, bumping into the old butler. The sight of Brett


    covered in blood startled the old man,


    "Master Brett, what happened to you? How did you get in this state? I''ll go call a doctor, just wait..."


    Brett, seemingly oblivious, steadied himself against the wall and walked forward. His vision blurred,


    the world asionally plunging into darkness, with only a beam of light ahead. Izabe stood there,


    extending her hand towards him.


    He walked towards the light, trying to grasp it, but he couldn''t.


    "I need Izabe, I need her. I haven''t taken her to see the snow this winter, I need to go back and


    braid her hair, give her the newly knitted scarf. Do you know where she went?" Brett''s eyes were


    bloodshot as he suddenly grabbed the old butler''s hand, asking anxiously.


    "Can you tell me where Izabe is? I need to find her, she doesn''t want me anymore, I can''t find


    her."


    He deserved it, only realizing what he had lost after it was gone.


    The feeling of stomach pain had slowly numbed, but his body, which had been chilled from staying


    in the cold room for days, was severely shocked now. Feeling dizzy, he was in a state of both ice


    and fire.


    He moistened his dry lips, the old butler tried to support him, but he was pushed aside. He clutched


    his stomach, bent slightly and moved forward step by step.


    The old butler followed Brett, watching his wavering figure helplessly. He was worried and quickly


    went to find Patrick to discuss Brett''s situation,


    "I''m worried about him."


    Patrick spoke in a deep voice, "What''s there to worry about? He''s just going mad, not dying. I''ll have


    Liam stimte him a bit; he won''t be in any danger."


    The old butler sighed quietly, hoping so, but Brett didn''t look fine, having vomited so much blood.


    Brett went outside without his coat, wearing only a sweater, but he didn''t feel the cold, because his


    heart was colder than the outside.


    Seeing hime out, the driver got out of the car and opened the back door, "President Windham,


    are you alright?"


    "Go back, I need to go back to see Izabe." Brett kept muttering this sentence.


    The driver helped him into the car, quietly closed the door, and drove steadily. It was nearly four


    o''clock when they got back.


    Liam, watching the car return from the floor-to-ceiling windows, frowned. It was earlier than he had


    expected, but hours had passed. Lucas and Presley should have already taken care of Izabe''s


    body, right?


    Brett got out of the car and refused the driver''s assistance, stumbling towards the house.


    "President Windham..." Liam spoke, but Brett didn''t even nce at him, rushing towards the cold


    room and bringing a gust of cold wind.


    "Izabe, I''m back..." Brett''s voice suddenly cut off. He had thought he would see Izabe lying in


    the crystal coffin as usual when he returned. But the huge cold room was empty, no crystal coffin,


    no Izabe. Fear prated his body as he leaned against the cold wall.


    For a moment he thought he had walked into the wrong room. How could the coffin and the person


    inside disappear without a trace?


    Liam stood behind him and said, "President Windham, while you were away, people from the police


    station came and took Madam away."


    Brett whirled around, grabbing Liam by the cor, and shouted angrily, "Didn''t I tell you to take good


    care of her? Why did you let them take her away? Why!"