Isabella Frost Novels & Stories

"Thank you. That really means a lot." She moved closer, and before I could stop her, she pulled me into a hug. A genuine, warm embrace that suggested she actually cared about me, actually valued my presence in her life. I stood there rigid in her arms, feeling nothing but cold satisfaction. She was hugging the woman who was going to orchestrate her death. Who was going to kill her child. Who was going to destroy everything she'd built here. And she had no idea. No idea at all. "Tonight is going to be perfect," Isabella said as she pulled back. "I can feel it. Everything is going to go exactly right."

she'd let herself cry for the life she'd lost. For the man she couldn't have. For the broken girl she'd become. And tomorrow night, when the loneliness became too much, she'd go back to that club. Would find another man who looked like Dimitri. Would bring him home and use him and hate herself a little more. Because that's what she did now. That's who she was. Isabella Russo. Mafia princess. Trained seductress. A broken woman addicted to strangers who looked like the man who'd rejected her.

‎She ran into the darkness. ‎Away from the fire. ‎Away from the screams. ‎Away from everything she had ever known. ‎And she never looked back. ‎Behind her the mansion burned. ‎And with it, Isabella Marisol Reyes died. ‎What remained…was something else entirely. ‎🖤 ♣️ ‎Daylight came too quickly. ‎It spilled over the city in soft gold, touching rooftops, flooding streets, warming a world that had no right to feel warm. ‎Isabella walked through it like a ghost.

Isabella bit her lip, her eyes burning with a hatred she didn’t bother to hide. “Aurora…” Ives took a step forward, about to say something. “Ives, just let it go,” Isabella said, pulling on his arm, forcing back tears in a pathetic play for sympathy. “I get it, Aurora’s in a bad mood. Why else would she freeze your account…” Her words seemed to restore his confidence. He became self-righteous again. “Whatever happened in the past, the fact is you froze the account and embarrassed both of us. To make up for it, Isabella will be staying in your room for now…”

"They're already fighting for attention." "They're Accardis. Of course they are." The moment was peaceful, perfect. The kind of moment Elena had dreamed about during her terrible marriage—being loved, being cherished, feeling safe. But outside the villa walls, in a prison cell in New York, Isabelle Laurent was making one final phone call. To someone who hated Elena almost as much as Isabelle did. Someone with resources, connections, and a burning desire for revenge. Marcus Thorne answered on the first ring. "Isabelle?"

’ Apelles held his breath, mentioning each of his words slowly, one after the other. ‘A Luna, Her name is Isabella just disguising as Kate Freddie, she is behind the attacks 'A Luna? He asked in shock as he grabbed the arm of the sofa he was sitting on Is she real?’

He whispered, and Isa knew in that moment, who the ‘he’ was. “Daniel” His name escaped her lips and Leonard withdrew with a firm nod. She should have stayed right there, but Isabella did not. Instead, she ran to the same hallway she met Patricia that night. There, she stayed and there she met Freya Carter, herself. - “What are you doing here?” The woman in the wheelchair seemed to peak her interest in Isabella. The latter wiped the tears beneath her eyes as she looked to Freya, Leonardo’s mother. “I—I just” She stuttered, without really completing her sentence and Freya wheeled closer to her before halting. “Is it all too much?” She asked, her countenance calm and kind. Isa looked to her wit

“I’m sorry, I whispered silently to the mirror. I’m so sorry you’re in the middle of this. But I didn’t turn back, I couldn't …because this wasn't just about love and revenge anymore.It was about justice and power. And the only way to win this game was to break everyone who thought they could control me. Including him, especially him. Back in the sunroom, Isabella was already texting a wedding planner, her phone lighting up with hearts and doves. “You’ll be part of the bridal party, right?” she asked, eyes hopeful. “I need someone strong by my side. Someone who knows me.”

And the time to strike was now. As she approached the village, the doors opened to reveal the Frostkin warriors standing before her, their eyes sharp, their expressions unreadable. But as they saw her—Asha Frostheart, the last of their bloodline—their faces softened, and a murmur of recognition passed through the crowd. One of the elders stepped forward, his voice low but clear. “The time has come,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. “We rise with you, Frostheart. Together, we will take back what was stolen.”

she said to Lucas when she reached us, inclining her head just enough to show respect without pretending she hadn’t raised him. “Mother,” he said. “This is Isabella Evergreen.” She turned her face fully to me. For a second, I saw everything reflected in her eyes, my ripped clothes, the bandaged arm, the tired lines on my face, the ghost of Silvercrest’s mark, the stubborn way I kept my chin up anyway. Then her mouth curved. “Welcome to Frostveil, Isabella,” she said, voice smooth and polite. “We have… heard much about you.”