This was the first time Izabe saw her post being swiftly deleted.


    With Nikki in one arm and the other hand unconsciously fiddling with its tag, Izabe''s phone began to vibrate. A text message from a stranger popped up on the screen.


    "Izabe, I don''t see you as a substitute anymore. If you stick with me, I can protect you. Brett is ruthless. If you want a better life, it''s best to steer clear of him. He''s a nutcase." After reading the message with a frown, Izabe instinctively hit reply.


    "Being with you," Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but in the end, she deleted the sentence. She had nothing good to say to Nathaniel. Izabe deleted the message, blocked him, and edited a custom system alert.


    Meanwhile, Nathaniel was waiting for Izabe''s response, thinking that he had made himself clear enough for her to understand.


    However, after waiting for half an hour, he didn''t get any reply. Did she not see the message? Was she scared?


    Nathaniel sent another message.


    "Juste back to me, and I can forgive everything you''ve done in the past, including holding hands with Casey today."


    But his message seemed to sink into the sea without a trace. Sensing something was off, Nathaniel quit the texting app and dialed Izabe.


    As soon as the phone rang, a cold, automated voice responded.


    "Sorry, the person you''re calling is currently calling you a dumbass. Please stop calling."


    "Bang!" Nathaniel mmed his phone down. Damn Bell, the stand-in was bing more and more like Izabe.


    Nathaniel was pissed off; the phone''s message echoed in his mind.


    It felt as if Izabe was right in front of him, pointing at his nose and cursing him. He stood up, kicked the coffee table, and smashed a vase.


    The butler rushed over after hearing themotion and was surprised at the sight of the broken pieces.


    Nathaniel was known to be good-tempered and always smiling. He had never won a fight against Brett, always ending up injured.


    So when the butler saw the mess on the floor and Nathaniel''s bloodshot eyes, he was taken aback.


    "Mr. Krueger, what happened?"


    Nathaniel took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and put on a smile again. "I''m fine. Arrange for someone to clean this up. I''m going to work in the study. Don''t disturb me."


    "Yes, sir." The butler nodded quickly and only breathed a sigh of relief after Nathaniel had disappeared into the study.


    Nathaniel''s anger was not entirely gone; it was just temporarily suppressed. He sat at his desk, flipping through files, but nothing went in.


    As soon as he was slightly distracted, he would think of the image of Casey leading Izabe away.


    How did Izabe meet Casey? Their social statuses were worlds apart. It was hard to imagine what they had inmon.


    Every time Nathaniel thought about this, his imagination would run wild. He would picture where Casey took Izabe today if they had been to a restaurant, shared a meal, stayed in the same room, showered, slept together, and done things he had never tried.


    Did the little girl start to like him? She let him hold her hand and followed him.


    How could this happen?


    Nathaniel tried to control his emotions, but the document in his hand had already been unconsciously crumpled. By the time he realized it, the document was so wrinkled that it was unusable. He nced at it, then casually threw it on the ground.


    Sleep was elusive tonight, not only for Nathaniel but also for Brett. He didn''t dare send a text message, only revisiting his past with Izabe.


    Looking at the tear-and-blood-stained diary, he didn''t want to be greedy, but he couldn''t bear the thought of Izabe having only other men in her heart from now on.


    He didn''t ask for much, just one year with her.


    Did Izabe mean it when she casually mentioned a chat fee of a hundred grand for half an hour today? If he gave her all his money, would she be willing to stay with him?


    The night wind was chilly as he carefully pressed the yellowed diary against his chest.


    Brett used to have a robust body and rarely fell ill. But now, apart from lung cancer, his stomach was also giving him problems.


    For a moment, he didn''t know whether to take his lung cancer medication or stomach pills.


    He clutched his chest, feeling as if numerous nails were piercing his organs. The pain was everywhere, and he didn''t even have a chance to vent.


    He curled up on the small chair, hisrge body trembling from the pain. Brett was very good at enduring pain. No matter how much it hurt, he always gritted his teeth and kept quiet.


    Until he couldn''t stand it anymore, and he vomited blood.


    The thick blood dripped from his mouth onto the floor. He quickly wiped it off, went to the bathroom to rinse with cold water, and covered his mouth with a damp towel.


    His internal organs felt like they had been pierced by countless swords; the pain was unbearable.


    Brett''s eyes welled up with tears as he began to miss the old Izabe. Izabe, who prepared food for him every day in the diary, reminded him to dress warmly, knitted scarves for him in winter, secretly drew pictures of him when she missed him, and folded her wishes into paper stars.


    When in pain, people can''t help reminiscing about the past and regretting past decisions.


    If only Izabe could cook him a bowl of noodles right now.


    If only she could remind him to take care of his health.


    Even if these were of no help now, at least he wouldn''t have any regrets.


    Brett swallowed a few painkillers.Content property of N?velDra/ma.Org.


    After a while, the severe pain eased a bit, but his chest and stomach still felt ufortable, spasming with pain. Even his head began to ache.


    The pain made him delirious, and in his blurry vision, he saw Izabe. The proud Ms. Izabe in a red dress who used to stand before him.


    The dream felt so real, but Brett knew it was just that, a dream, and he didn''t want to wake up.


    "Izabe, my stomach''s killing me. I''m craving your home cooking, or just some porridge if that''s too much trouble."


    "Izabe, I swear I''ll quit smoking; I won''t ever chuck an ashtray at you again."


    "Izabe, I feel like I''m dying; could you look at me one more time?"


    "Izabe."


    "Izabe."


    In his dream, Izabe did nothing. She just stared at him coldly. "Brett, I''m dead. You go your way; I''ll go mine. We''re not crossing paths again." For the three years since Izabe''s death, he avoided dreaming of her, afraid that after the third dream, there would be no more chance of seeing her. Now that Izabe was back, he could finally dream of her again.


    He thought dreaming of Izabe would be a sweet dream, but it turned into a nightmare, trapping him with no escape.


    He saw a sea of fire and Izabe in a red dress standing amidst the mes, smiling at him.


    Brett woke up from the nightmare, immediately reached for his phone, and found that familiar number.


    He hesitated for a long time before typing a message to Izabe.


    "I miss you."


    He didn''t expect Izabe to reply; she probably blocked his number the moment she saw it was from him.


    Brett continued typing, "I dreamt of


    you today, you from the past, prettier than you are now. You haven''t smiled at me in a long time, so long that I''m forgetting what your smile looks like."


    Right now, Izabe might be smiling at someone else. Her warmth and care no longer belonged to him.


    He was stuck in the past.


    Every time he closed his eyes that Christmas night, he saw a figure desperately swimming towards him in the water. She was so skinny, her arms so delicate, yet she held onto him tightly in the water.


    The scene shifted abruptly; he was throwing a pregnant Izabe down from the second floor, and the blood was a vivid, shocking red.


    With great difficulty, Izabe managed to say, "Brett, you''re so cruel," her voice full of despair.


    From that moment on, Izabe began to drift further and further away from him.


    He kept waiting for Izabe''s reply on his phone, but it never came.


    He looked up Izabe''s name on Twitter; her tweets were the same old ones, no updates. He searched for Casey.


    He saw that Casey posted a new tweet, a photo of two dishes and a soup, with the caption "delicious".


    Brett immediately recognized the


    food as Izabe''s; she''d cooked the same dishes for him countless


    times, and the color and


    l.ne


    presentation were identical. Just looking at the photo, he could smell the aroma.


    Brett covered his eyes. Izabe was cooking for another man.


    And it was Casey.


    He was clearly told that it was Casey, not Ryker Dempsey, but Izabe still chose to be with him. That was just the way fate worked.


    The right people would find each other in the end, no matter the twists and turns, and the wrong ones would part ways even if they met. Time was silent, but it gave the best answers.


    Brett couldn''t ept it.


    That year, he used Izabe as a bargaining chip just to ensure Kaley Cot''s safety.


    Izabe asked him, wasn''t he afraid of what the kidnappers might do to her?


    His answer then was that if the kidnappers really did anything to her, he would kill them, and he wouldn''t feel any disgust towards her. Whenever Brett remembered what he said back then, he would raise his hand and p himself hard.


    How could he have said those things back then?