I Never Regretted Leaving You (Can't Win Me Back)

Chapter 61

She stared at Isabella with a probing look. “I heard from your Sis that you’ve made it big now, become the wife of a rich man?”

Isabella’s heart reflexively tightened in her chest. Every nerve in her body seemed to throb in pain, and for a moment, it felt as though her blood had frozen, her vitality evaporating.

“How did you get here?” she asked, her voice barely audible, trembling.

“You haven’t come to see me in so long,” her mother continued, her voice a mixture of complaint and sorrow. “Bella, I’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness. I don’t have long to live. Before I die, I just wanted to see you. I’ve called you so many times, but you never answered. I sent you messages, but you didn’t reply. Have you forgotten me, now that you’ve become successful and don’t want to acknowledge your good–for- nothing mother?”

As she spoke, her mother began to sob uncontrollably.

Isabella stared coldly at the woman who had brought her nothing but misfortune. How dare she come here? When Isabella was so small, her mother had transferred all of her frustrations with Moore’s Father onto her.

She had been abusive–physically and emotionally. She had treated her as nothing more than an outlet for her anger, beating her and kicking her. She had forbidden her from going to school, forcing her to beg on the streets, and then taking

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money she

thinking about her mother brought on nightmares. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to recognize her mother, but she

this cruel woman who was no better than a “human trafficker. ”

you came to me, I can’t help

a desperate look. “There are some things I want to say to you,

Isabella’s icy expression softened slightly. She thought to herself that, after all, they were blood relatives. When someone is about to die, they speak kindly. Perhaps she should show some grace and forgive her mother.

me,” Isabella said,

mother to a nearby bar, just

here,” Isabella said as

forced me to divorce him. I was just a housewife with no means of fighting back. I had to leave with you and start from scratch, facing a

through her hair, and when her fingers

a scar on her forehead, her warmth vanished, replaced

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by coldness.

with each word. “You beat me until my ribs. were broken. You tortured me as if

didn’t just make my life miserable, you

is better. You’re doing well in life, and that’s all I care about. I’m