Ella Era Bonita Novels & Stories

someone murmured from the press pen. “She didn’t ride in the back with Leonard?” another whispered, camera still snapping. “I thought she was the creative head of this collaboration… not the chauffeur,” a woman muttered, half amused, half intrigued. Elara heard every word, though her expression didn’t waver. Her lips stayed curved in that neutral, graceful smile she’d perfected, the kind that revealed nothing and hid everything. Behind her, the back door opened. Lila stepped out first, radiant in a crimson gown that matched the carpet, her arm already linked through Leonard’s.

“I just need a minute…” “As you can see, I am busy,” she interrupted, straightening her chair. Her eyes were sharp and wary. Just then, the door burst open, and a blond walked in, accompanied by a little girl. My attention snagged on the child first, assuming that she was the lady's, but as the child turned toward me, my heart stopped. “Mummy!” she yelped and ran toward Elara. She had dark eyes, the same sharp curve of the jaw, a faint dimple in the left cheek. Not even the hair down her back could hide the glaringly undeniable truth. She was mine..

The storm on Sanctuary Island had just passed, the air thick with the scent of sea salt. Elara sat on the glass terrace by the cliff, sketching. She wore a stylish burgundy velvet dress, its hem rippling gently in the sea breeze, like a blood-red rose blooming on the cliff's edge. Just then, the elevator door dinged open. Dante Rossi stepped out. The moment his gaze fell on Elara, he froze. He had never seen Elara like this before – no longer Serena's meek shadow, but a queen radiating raw power.

There was an undeniable tension between the two women as Elena made her way to them, the air around them charged with unspoken words. “Dante,” Elena said smoothly, her voice sweet but laced with an edge. “I see you’ve brought your little... project with you.” Isla’s jaw clenched, but she kept her expression neutral. Elena’s words weren’t lost on her. She knew exactly what kind of game Elena was playing. “Bella,” Dante said, his voice colder than before, “this is Elena Ricci. Elena, this is Bella Caruso.” Isla nodded curtly, but Elena didn’t seem interested in formalities. Her gaze flickered briefly to Isla’s face, studying her with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

Elara asked, her voice crisp and clear. "She is nothing," Bryson answered instantly, turning his back on Glenda to stand beside his wife. Elara nodded once and took two steps toward Glenda, stopping just out of reach. "You claim to be Luna," Elara said, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. "But a Luna has dignity. A Luna has grace. You look like a rabid dog that slipped its leash." "I am the true Luna!" Glenda screeched, lunging forward with her claws extended.

‘Our wedding was held on the 10th of October, none of us were happy with one another that’s the very least. ’ Ella sat in front of the mirror as her hired stylist was already doing her job, placing highlighters on her eyes. The makeup session was nearing an end and after a while the makeup artist was done. “There we go. You look meraviglioso (wonderful)” She said in her Italian accent. Ella just nodded and stood up from her chair and exited the room.

She felt as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown on her. “You should count yourself lucky the Luna is in a good mood, and as for you, ” Bianca turned to Elise, “try to advise your lady. She listens to you. She has found her mate, and the man loves her. Rather than waiting on an already taken-off boat, she should board a new one.” Yella did not need to hear the words twice. It was at that moment everything clicked, and without shame, she smiled, turned to her maid, and grabbed the basket. She handed it over to Elise.

C H A P T E R 2 2 : T O C O N V I N C E O N E S E L F E L L A S T A N F O R D After Washington D.C. intermittent sunshine and rain, Trapani, Sicily looked so unreal and beautiful — just like a coloured postcard. The streets lined with palm trees whose leaves were green and lustrous, the hotels dazzling white and glinting in the sun, the layered rows of houses softly washed in pastel colours, over all of the town the brilliant azure sky making it look more like a film set than anything Ella could remember.

She looked at the lucky charcoal blazer, then slowly pulled the pins from her hair, letting it cascade down her shoulders. "You're so beautiful that even a stone statue would fall flat for you," Erica's voice echoed in her head. "Beautiful?" Selena whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. She leaned closer to the mirror, examining her features as if she were seeing them for the first time. Her eyes, large and expressive, seemed to hold a world of hidden dreams. Her skin was pale and smooth, glowing under the soft Italian moonlight. She traced the line of her jaw with her fingertips. She thought about the "Ice King" Erica had described. A man who lived in glass towers, who owned half o

She's quiet the rest of the drive, but she keeps her hand in mine and her thumb moving back and forth across my knuckles in the slow unconscious way. The villa sits above the town on a cliff that makes the whole coast look like it was arranged specifically to be looked at. Designed with whitewashed walls, terracotta floors worn smooth by decades and a terrace with a table for two and a view that does something embarrassing to the chest the first time you see it. The caretaker shows us through, and leaves us with wine and bread and oil and the good sense to disappear. Elara walks straight through the villa to the terrace and stands at the railing. The sun drops toward the water, turning every