Isabella Bria Lopez Novels & Stories

“Isabella?..“ She turned slowly and the moment she saw me , her eyes lighted up with delightfulness and screamed, “Lovia!…” We both laughed and hugged each other joyfully. Isabella was almost like a sister to me, but we got separated when she moved abroad after college . We asked each other what was going on in our lives and spent the whole day at the yoga class talking about ourselves. That's when I found out something more delicious. Isabella is now the fiance of the great Alexander McQueen, one of the leaders of the YBA billionaire circle. “ Wow, the universe never seize to amaze me..“ I thought, he brought just a perfect pawn that can lead me into that circle.

he was angry and she respected that She knew that it's time for them to breakup anyway that's why she's been constantly meeting with Liam these past few days to have her current boyfriend feel intimidated Isabella Lorenzo, a half Spanish and Half Australian, a widely known player across the social circle, "Marcus, why do you think that I went out with you?"Isabella asked him, sitting so comfortably with her legs cross Infront of him, Making him flinch in his place when he heard the question, He knew, Marcus knew that the reason why Isabella dated him it's because of his influence, He's a beautiful model and yet he's being fooled by Isabella Lorenzo who Liam Roberts owned, both her body and h

The way he said ladies made me cringe like we were something other than ladies. “Teresa Montés and Isabella Valéz.” Chino responded. “These wouldn’t be my brother’s daughters, would they? “They are.” “So, you escaped Zamora. “ “Yes,” I said. “You must be Isabella. The older one, right? “He looked me up and down. “Hmmm.” He walked over to Teresa, she looked at me nervously. She is only 19. Barely even legal in the United States. He touched her shoulder, she jumped. “It’s no reason to be afraid.” He rubbed her shoulders.

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.

"You must be Luke." Luke nodded dumbly. "I must be." "Snarky, too," she cooed to the others. "Just like Julian. I’m keeping him." "Yeah, yeah, move over," another girl muttered. She had hair as dark as Cass's and the same striking blue-gray eyes. She nudged Camila aside and grinned at Luke with an energy that felt like a lightning strike. "Hi. I'm Isabella Cruz." She grabbed his hand and gave it a bone-crushing shake. "Lucia said you wouldn't even tell her where Cass was until she passed a gauntlet."

“She tore my arm off!” “Your arm is still attached,” I said. “It’s ruined!” Tears instantly flooded the lower rims of his blue eyes. “I need a doctor! And ice! And surgery!” Issa, meanwhile, took two steps back laughing under her breath. Then she ran. “Max is cryyying, Max is cryyying, wah wah wah, baby king is crying—” She darted behind the island, singing in a bright little voice that was cheerful and deeply annoying. “Isabella Maria Gómez.” I deliberately switched on full Latina mode. “Get back here before I personally donate every glitter clip you own.”

But i still picked the call anyways. "Hi, please are you by anyways, Miss Selene Woods?" - A feminine voice came from the other end, soft, polite and yet, straight to the point. "Yes, i am she!!. How may i be of help to you?" - I replied in a wary tone. "Great!!. My name is Anne Moreau, i'm a manager at Livelia entertainment and also a friend of the professor." - She introduced herself briefly, her tone filled with strict professionalism. " Oh..." - I gasped.

Ciara, the Irish priestess who handled legal affairs for women who crossed supernatural lines, crouched beside him. “He’s unstable. Burning through timelines. He shouldn’t even be alive.” “He’s alive because I brought him back,” Olivia said quietly. “Exactly,” Ciara replied. “Which means you are tied into his instability.” The priestess from Rio, Isabella, fierce and glamorous, leaned against a cracked pillar. “Is this a love story or a disaster?” Olivia didn’t blink. “Both.” A ripple of smirks moved through the circle. They respected bluntness.

A little girl with long dark hair, standing in front of the Abram estate, a ribbon tied at her wrist. Isabella stared at it for so long I thought she had stopped breathing. Then she shoved it back across the table, her voice breaking. “Stop it! Stop trying to make me someone I’m not! I’m not her. I’m not Marisol Abram. I’m Isabella, and that’s all I can survive being.” Her shout echoed, shattering the fragile quiet. She pressed her hands to her temples, shaking her head as if she could erase the images, the words, the weight pressing down.

Then Isabella sat down. She reached for the microphone that Nikolai had set on the table. Then she said, without any emotion: “My name is Isabella De Luca. I organized the Vetra Initiative. I ordered the silence. I bribed, buried, and built a throne on bones. I chose power over peace. And I regret nothing.” Nikolai’s fingers twitched on the table. My heart sank like a heavy rock. “Regret nothing?” I echoed, stepping closer. “Don’t get it twisted,” she said. “I regret losing. But I don’t regret winning while I could.”