Isabel Magnolia Novels & Stories

At the head of the table, Damien was already seated, his wine glass, near his plate but he hadn’t yet taken a sip. Beside him was of course Isla, her spine poised, her hands resting lightly on her lap in wait. There was less than a minute between the final napkin adjustment before the gentle sound from the other dining room door made it open to reveal the face of none other but, Isabella. She stepped in with the rehearsed gait she had perfected over years during the peak of her modelling career. But the main point of attention was actually the robe she was wearing; a delicate plum silk that slipped suggestively off one shoulder.

Through my experiences on this journey, I’d learned firsthand that observation often times provided more answers than questions. “Ah, I see you have met my mother,” Isabelle said sweetly. “Alas, although I appear to be Rosalie, I am not she. I am Isabelle, daughter of Rosalie Johanna Remoras who reigns over the Spanish world of magic as queen. She is powerful, beauteous, loving, fair, and most of all, a dear woman.” Elizabeth stood up and walked closer to the bed. “The resemblance is so that I could not tell you are not she. Now that I look closer, there are some differences; although very slight,” she said calmly.

Nisha cried out loud and shouted at the top of her voice. “How on earth do you expect me to love a monster like you! How do you expect me to believe you're not after something only you would gain from, uhn! Nisha screamed and went out of the room. ................. Caleb went to his favorite spot again, hoping he would meet Isabelle. Fortunately, he met her and was glad to see her again. Isabelle had a honey brown curly hair which was full, her eyelashes were long and attractive. Her eyes were sky blue and her lips were gorgeously pink. Caleb admired every part of her, from her physical appearance to her character.

She smiled her usual smile. Isabella’s blonde hair was let down with shades aiding to keep it off her face. She wore a white crop bareback with white pants and red heels to complete the look. Isabel was a part-time model and part-time advertising manager at the Cooper Group so, she always kept her body in shape. Joane cleared her throat before looking everywhere but her direction, “Do you think Nikolai hasn’t asked me out because I’m helpless and I look like a gold digger?” “Why do you ask?” Isabella glanced at her for a second before she made a turn to the right.

Isabella grew up in Anji Village outside Silvana City. Her mom owned a two-bedroom house with a large courtyard in front and at the back. Vegetable patches are full and hibiscus flowers surrounding the wall. There’s a small pathway of pebbles from the entrance to the house, so when it rains, mud won't get on shoes.

… Isabelle didn't contact me again over the next few days, but she kept updating her social media. Most of her posts were about daily rehearsals, the low-fat meals she ate to stay in shape, and little snippets of her daily life. It was as if she were deliberately posting them for me to see. So I did exactly what she wanted and liked all her posts. At the same time, I kept myself busy. I organized the materials I had accumulated over the years and donated the extra things in the house. The roses I had cultivated in the greenhouse were in full bloom. I cut every single one of them, arranged them into two bouquets, and knocked on Professor White's office door.

She is supposed to be my mate, but that poison must have affected me enough to erase that critical information with my luna. "I apologize, but I can't seem to remember your name." I said regretfully, looking at her. She turned her body towards me and my eyes landed on her full breasts, her cleavage on full display. She smiled, and goddess does she have the most beautiful smile. "Isabela. My name is Isabela." she said. Her innocent face seemed to suit her name as well as her whole vibe. She looks like a really sweet girl. Her blonde hair cascaded down her breasts in full, bouncy curves. Her blue eyes stared into me intently. I let my gaze roam down her body. She is wearing a white cardigan an

**Lucian’s POV** The cemetery was small, old oaks shading the rows of headstones, a soft wind carrying the scent of fresh-turned earth. I stood just behind Isabella, close enough to feel her tremble but not touching—yet. She wore black, simple dress, her hair pulled back, while her face was pale under the wide-brimmed hat. Her mother stood on her other side, clutching a single white rose like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“You're supposed to be helping with dinner as your friend is—” “I'll do all the dishes Abuela. I promise. I won't be long.” She hurried out. Milagros shook her head and walked over to close the front door properly. “Ay, these teenagers” she shook her head. ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ Isabel sat down on the bench and looked around. She had to find him. Maybe he knew something. Then she spotted his blonde hair from the distance and shot up.

Her appearance was stunning as she carried herself regally yet hidden beneath her appearance were the emotions of pain and rage. When Isabella walked toward the altar her gaze fixed upon Vincent with a powerful fire burning in her eyes. She spoke nothing and failed to notice him. She directed the flowers toward Megan before passing them over. Isabella delivered her words with clear contempt when she announced "Congratulations." "I hope you're happy now." Her features curled into an angry expression and she stared at me with burning hatred. "Get out of here!" she spat. Isabella displayed her smile. "Sure," she said. "But after giving you something."