Isabel Love Gloryhole Novels & Stories

She didn't see him much during the day because he was always working, so Isabella wanted to take advantage of every moment she could to share with Maximo. After a short kiss, as always, Máximo left for work and Isabella stayed in the apartment, there was not much to do, so she only took the newspapers and some magazines to read for a while, when she found an image that left her paralyzed. "The heiress, Isabella Sinclair, spouse of heir Maximo Collins, lived on the streets of the city as a pauper," with her heart racing and her hands trembling, Isabella read the entire article, giving some details of her life in the suburbs and the time she spent in shelters.

But Isabel remained outside only to avoid the grand hall where the celebrations were at their liveliest. Isabel's fingers began to bleed as she dug into the soil with her bare hands, tending to the flowers in the garden her king always loved to visit. The rich earth grew wet with her tears as they flowed unchecked from her eyes to her chin. She had tried to suppress the pain, but it surged up, relentless and overwhelming. Despite the blood staining her fingertips, she didn't stop digging. A scream bubbled up inside her, a desperate need to shout to the world that Lucian was hers and no one else's. But she could not. She must not.

GLORIA'S POV Isabel stares after me with her mouth gaping open in shock, not moving from the bed. I don’t pause to put on appropriate clothing or even don shoes, instead sprinting to my door and pressing my ear to the wood. After a moment Isabel recovers and comes to stand beside me. “What are you doing?” She whispers, her pretty eyes wide. I lead her back from the doorway, pressing my finger to my lips. The feeling of my mate is growing stronger by the second, and his voice calls out again. Gloria!

Serendipity Hill 21 years ago Before <<< Gladys walked through the portal to find Isabella in her own pool of blood. She shook her frantically but Isabella wouldn't bulge. Gladys looked at her hands and what looked like blue fire were on her hands. She molded them together into a ball and threw it at Isabella's chest. Her head flung back as she started mumbling some incantations. Her pupil descends into her skull leaving just the white part of her eyes.

"Think of it, darling. Your little secret, safely tucked away in my pussy, in exchange for… services rendered.” She slowly raised her gown to belly level, revealing her pink underpants. From the top, she inserted her hand and her eyeballs dilated. “Oh, I'm so wet, Jonathan,” Isabella said, removed her hand and displayed the sticky fluid between her index and middle finger. “Fill me with your dick and your secrets are safe.” My stomach churned. The thought of them, us, together, was a sickening blend of betrayal and forbidden desire. It made me want to vomit.

— Elsewhere in the city, Tania strolled into a quiet café where Isabela already sat, sipping something iced and bitter. They didn’t greet each other like allies. More like reflections in a mirror. “You know,” Tania said, sliding into the chair across from her, “it’s usually the scorned woman who sends the scandal to the press. You’ve got an edge to you.” Isabela smiled. “I’m just here to remind the world that some ghosts still haunt the living.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a silver USB. Pushed it across the table. Tania raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

ISABELLA I watched the sun rise on my wedding day with dry eyes and a hollow feeling in my chest. Sleep had been impossible, so I'd spent the night in my studio, finishing the commission that had seemed so important just days ago. Now the completed canvas leaned against the wall, a stranger's work created by a woman who no longer existed. By noon, Isabella Caldwell would disappear, replaced by Isabella Blackwood,wife of a man who had orchestrated her family's destruction.

The moving boxes still formed small barriers throughout the space, and the rug rolled up in the corner barely disguised the sense of disorder, but at that moment the apartment seemed like a refuge just for them, a secret stage about to transform. Isabela, kneeling on the sofa, wore a red dress that clung to the curves of her body, the delicate lace contrasting with her pale skin. Her ample breasts stood out under the thin fabric, her hardened nipples casting visible shadows, and her blue eyes, sparkling with mischief, couldn't help but sweep across the panoramic window behind the TV, where the phrase in red lipstick still glowed, defiant, provoking the neighbors.

She paused with her dabbing, intending to smile at the person that had spilled the mimosa to show that there were no hard feelings when her eyes found familiar ones. Isabel stared at him like she had seen a ghost because that was just what he was; a ghost from her past came to hunt her present and threaten her future. Standing before her was one of her clients from her not-so-distant past as Shine. He was the married man who had slept with her, Candy and Spice and had then made the girls to hide in the pantry when his wife had come home earlier than expected. And now, here he was in front of her with his wife – Isabel recognized her from the family pictures she had seen in the house that day

“But AI cannot imitate the unique digital trail from the satellite phone you used. The phone is registered under the Montgomery Trust name. And guess what else, Isabella? When you downloaded my ‘Honey Pot’ data, you also gave me access to unlock hidden folders on your phone.” Liora pressed another button on her tablet. The large screen shifted, displaying a series of Isabella’s personal photos and documents. “Let’s see what this ‘Perfect Bride’ has been hiding,” Liora said in a sweet yet deadly tone. The first photo appeared: Isabella at a wild party in Ibiza, consuming illegal substances with several men known as money-laundering mafia from Eastern Europe.