Fleur Isabelle Delacour Novels & Stories

The woman assured before cupping her daughter's cheeks and pecking her forehead softly. The mother faces Isabella with a sad look. "Mama loves you, my piccolo fiore." She whispers, both of them closing their eyes as their faces become drenched with tears. [Translation: my little flower] After what seemed like eternity, the woman had finally gained the courage to separate herself from her child. She stood up, making sure to close the closet doors in hopes of hiding her daughter's location. Isabella was able to peek through the small crack of her closet. Her eyes following her mother's figure with a longing glance as her hands cover her mouth, trying to silence her own sobs. Stifling her cries

Saying that he held kai's hand and walked out of the room leaving the confused kitten behind. Kai grinned waving at her, while Fleur opened the box and found a blood-red shimmering gown placed inside it, she gaped in awe at how beautiful the dress was, she stared at it trying to understand why Gabriel would give it to her, but maybe to celebrate her return. The next day arrived, and Neil was smiling like an idiot and it was obvious his night went quite well, Fleur raised her eyebrows at him. "So she said yes," He grinned bobbing his head.

“I didn’t pull you aside for you to worry about the details, Dalia. We are doing this to help her.” The girl pouted. “My name is Delaney.” Ugh—potato, tomato, Isabelle jeered internally. “Please,” she insisted. “She needs you.” And with that final encouragement, the girl ventured toward Maeve, about to be an unwitting pawn in Isabelle’s plan. Isabelle watched with bated breath, waiting for Delaney to make contact with Maeve, and desperately wanting to see the unabashed glaze of horror that would cross her face when she listened to those horrid tales. But then—

Isabelle flashed a very dangerous smile at them. “Oh don’t I? Well we’ll have to change that.” Suddenly Isabelle charged forward, pulling out a very sharp looking knife, seemingly from nowhere.

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand as I looked her square in the eye, “I’m not exactly who you think I am, Isabella. I’m Elaine Delacroix. The first daughter of the Delacroix family.” For a moment, Isabella just stared at me, her expression frozen in disbelief. Then she inhaled sharply, choking on her saliva mid-breath, “What?!” She managed to sputter, coughing and gasping as Zade reached over to pat her back, laughing all the while. “Are you okay?” I asked, trying to keep my laughter in check but failing miserably. “Elaine Delacroix?” She wheezed, her voice incredulous. “The Elaine Delacroix? The one who…” She cut herself off, her jaw dropping as her brain seemed to connect the do

Chapter 89: My Beautiful Isabella Isabel stood by the fireplace, wanting to prepare something special for the empress to help restore her appetite and lift her spirits. Her sleeves were rolled up, her apron securely tied, and her hands deftly maneuvered through the delicate process of baking egg tarts. Flour dusted her cheeks and apron as she carefully measured ingredients and stirred mixtures. The staff though aware of Isabel's true identity, watched from a respectful distance. Their eyes were curious, unsure of how to interact with the imperial highness in such an informal setting.

The line went dead after that, leaving Isabelle frozen in place, and wondering if she misheard everything. Before she could gather her thoughts, however, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Camille. “Belle?” Camille’s voice was soft, carrying a mixture of worry and comfort. “Don’t be sad, okay? You can always try again next time. Who knows, maybe an even better role will come.” Isabelle blinked, her lips parting in confusion. “…Sad?” “I saw Chloe’s post just now,” Camille sighed. “Apparently she landed the Princess Elara role. Do you know her? She’s an up and coming influencer that's been making rounds online these days. People are already congratulating her.”

Because standing inside the dining room, setting the table like she owns the damn place, is Isabelle. Of course. Because why wouldn’t the universe add lighter fluid to a fire I’m already trying to control with a wet napkin? The front door opens, and Elena steps in, holding a bouquet so big and luxurious it looks like she robbed a botanical garden on the way here. And she looks beautiful, too beautiful while I’m standing in the corner like a man awaiting execution. But then her eyes land on Isabelle, and instantly, her expression freezes. It’s the kind of look that says: If I had known she would be here, I would’ve driven my car straight into a wall instead.

It was a very comfortable space, with tables and chairs in various places. My eyes immediately fell on a group of girls sitting on the sectional. “That’s her!” one of them whispered. I recognized her immediately. It was Fleur, the ex-Luna’s granddaughter. She was sitting with a couple of girls I recognized but didn’t know. And, of course, Lucinda was with them. “What the hell is she wearing?” one of them scoffed. “I can’t believe she’s actually in the packhouse.” “She’s dressed for a fucking ball.” I lifted my chin as they snickered.

He was the first man who ignored her, and it gave her a desire to conquer him. “I’m Elder Maurice’s daughter. My name is Isabelle. People affectionately call me Belle.” She flashed him a coquettish smile and walked forward. “Terry North, my father asked me to come and see you.” “You can leave now that you’ve seen me.” Terry North chased her out relentlessly.