Twisted Ties of Love

Chapter 40

On top of a pile of junk, there was something that looked like a "decorative painting." Brett went over and turned it around, only to be stunned by what he saw. Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

It wasn't a decorative painting at all, but rather a wedding photo of him and Izabella.

He kind of remembered the photo, but he thought it had been smashed and thrown away by Izabella. Why was it here, perfectly intact?

Did she secretly keep and frame it afterwards? If she had kept it for four years, why was the photo now thrown among a bunch of junk?

Brett couldn't pinpoint his feelings about it. All this time, he had been denying Izabella's changing feelings for him, but now, seeing this abandoned wedding photo, he had to admit that Izabella really gave him up.

In the past, he had always called Izabella a cheap woman and confidently believed that she would remain so for life. He never thought that there would come a day when Izabella would stop loving him. The day came out of nowhere.

Brett clenched the photo frame tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white.

As soon as Izabella came out, she saw him standing in front of that pile of junk. She walked closer and saw clearly what Brett was holding–their wedding photo.

Izabella said, "I didn't have the heart to throw away it before, but now I'm moving and this meaningless thing is just annoying. It brings back bad memories."

Brett's eyes, already somber, grew even colder as he responded, "So you're discarding it now?"

Izabella retorted, "What else should I do? Keep it around to upset people? I assume you don't like it either, right?"

Indeed, Brett didn't like it. He despised both Izabella and the wedding photo. As she had stated, the photo only served as a catalyst for painful memories. It should have been disposed of long ago, and there was no reason to hold onto it now.

The two stood in a tense silence, the atmosphere growing stifling. However, their confrontation was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door.

Izabella hurriedly made her way to open the door, and this time, it was an elderly man who collected scrap materials. The old man had a tow truck attached to a hemp rope.

"Miss, where can I find the unwanted scrap?" the old man inquired.

"It's inside; please come in," Izabella replied, stepping aside to make room for the old man and his tow truck.

"I'll assist you with the rope," she added, offering her help.

The old man waved his hand. "No need, I can handle it myself. Just don't mind my dirty appearance."

People living here were wealthy, and he was far from clean. Every time he collected scrap, he encountered some disdainful looks, but not this time. This beautiful and kind-hearted girl treated him very politely.

Izabella invited the old man inside and graciously offered him a glass of water. The old man gratefully drank the water and then proceeded to begin his work, his eyes gleaming with anticipation upon seeing the pile of discarded items. It appeared to hold considerable value.

Curiosity piqued, the old man turned to the man standing before him and asked, "Are you certain you don't need this?" His gaze fell upon Brett, who maintained a cold and silent demeanor. However, it was Izabella who responded, "Yes, for now, only these items. I'll contact you again when I'm ready to move."

"Alright," the old man acknowledged, understanding her request. He continued his task of sorting through the collected junk. As he was about to pick up the wedding photo, Brett, who had been silently observing, unexpectedly spoke up.

"Leave the wedding photo," he commanded.

Izabella, who had been assisting with the sorting process, lifted her gaze to meet Brett's. Brett felt a hint of unease under her penetrating stare, but he had already made his request. Even he couldn't fathom why he wanted to hold onto the photo, but now he had to find a justification for his decision.

"Our divorce isn't finalized, and there's not even a wedding photo in the house. What kind of pathetic scene is that?"

Izabella interrupted his lame excuse, "It wasn't there before, and we got by just fine, didn't we?"

Brett's face darkened, "Izabella, do I need to remind you of what I told you at the hospital?"

Izabella smiled faintly, bent down, picked up the wedding photo from the ground, and carefully placed it on the coffee table.

As she recalled Brett's words, Izabella etched them into her memory. He had instructed her to behave, and she would comply. The weight of his dominance lingered in her mind, urging her to submit.

The elderly man swiftly gathered the scrap items, packing them away. Meanwhile, Izabella grabbed a broom and started sweeping the floor, her body bending down. She was dressed in a loose-fitting

T-shirt that revealed her prominent collarbones.

Her physical condition had not fully recovered, and the exertion took a toll on her body. Within a short period of time, her face became coated in a sheen of cold sweat, evidence of the strain she endured.