Isabella Good Trouble Novels & Stories

I spent five years chasing Tyler Watson, only to get kidnapped right in front of him. He just stood there and watched. As a result, I suffered. After I escaped, he acted all high and mighty and proposed to make up for his tiny bit of guilt. The second we got our marriage certificate, the Simp System’s voice rang in my head. “Congrats, host! You’ve completed your mission.” Just like that, my sanity finally returned. While Tyler waited in a hotel for me to bring him contraceptives, I went live to expose his cheating. For good measure, I even called the anti-vice office to report my dear husband for soliciting prostitutes.

“Sorry, but due to the holiday, we’re overbooked. Your reservation has been canceled. Here’s a fifty-dollar voucher as compensation.” The hotel front desk clerk handed me a voucher with a perfunctory tone. I looked at her coldly. Then, I looked at the man next to her, who had just arrived. He had not even shown his ID, yet the clerk respectfully handed him a presidential suite key card. “Why can he check in without even showing an ID? Meanwhile, my room, which I booked a full week in advance, was canceled without explanation. And all I get is a lousy fifty-dollar voucher?” The front desk clerk let out a scornful laugh as she walked up to me. “Because he’s Mr. Ludwig, the heir of Grandview Group! His family owns the entire hotel. Do you think it’s just a matter of one room? If he wanted the whole hotel emptied out tonight, we’d do it. Who do you think you are? “If you keep standing here causing trouble and getting in his way, I’ll have security drag you outside and beat some sense into you. Now, get out!” Two security guards stepped forward. They grabbed me by the hair and roughly pulled me toward the door. My scalp hurt badly from the pulling, and my clothes were wrinkled. The front desk clerk’s shouts trailed behind me. “Next time, stay in a motel. People like you can’t afford to travel on a holiday.” I looked at the hotel’s grand entrance. Instead of shouting, I let out a quiet, exasperated laugh. The heir to Grandview Group, huh? They probably did not know that their lofty heir was right in front of them, and that he was being humiliated by their staff. Since they refused to serve guests decently, only catered to people with status, and did not think twice about hurting and humiliating their other customers, this hotel might as well shut down.

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged. The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks." The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks. A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees." I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry. So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone." Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post. "Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

My sister always prided herself on her self-control. Even after six years of dating, she still insisted she was untouched. One day, I noticed something strange–her tongue was covered in metal piercings. That was when I realized… she had been using a different way all along. When I confronted her, she only smirked. "This way, men enjoy it more–and they become obsessed precisely because they can't have me. You wouldn't understand." However, looking at the damage already spreading through her mouth, I could not stay silent. I told her the risks–disease, even cancer–and that men obsessed with that kind of "purity" weren't good people to begin with. She did not listen. That very night, she gave herself to a powerful heir. Later, when the woman he truly loved returned, he discarded her without hesitation. She laughed it off, calling him a scumbag. However, on my birthday, she hid a knife inside a cake–and slammed it into my face. As the blade pierced through me, she burst into laughter. "If you hadn't pushed me to give it away, why would he stop valuing me? Why would he leave me? "This is all your fault. You deserve to die." When I opened my eyes again– I was back to the day I first saw the piercings on her tongue.

The wedding had reached the part where the groom kissed the bride. I closed my eyes and leaned in to kiss Stella Stafford, only to end up with a mouthful of fur. Her assistant held up the camera and burst out laughing. "The almighty Mr. Rowe can't even tell if he's kissing a person or a dog?" I stared at the Husky in front of me, its tongue lolling out, and felt my stomach churn. I was about to lay into him when Stella stepped in to block me. "It was just a joke. No hard feelings." Laurent Reilly smirked smugly, his tone dripping with arrogance. "And guess what? This Husky happens to be a female, so why don't you just marry her instead? You're not good enough for Stella anyway." The employees erupted in laughter. Mortified, I kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling. The next second, Stella smashed a wine bottle over my head and demanded an apology. I wiped the mix of wine and blood from my face, then dialed an overseas number with a cold grin. "The wedding is short one bride. You in?"

I worked overtime until the early morning hours and called my driver to pick me up. She frowned the entire ride. "You go home so late every night, and you always have me pick you up. You have no consideration for others." I found her comment baffling. "Wasn't all of this made clear when I hired you? The job requires you to be available at all times, and your salary is generous." "What exactly are you trying to say?" Chloe Morrison's tone turned reproachful and condescending. "I'm concerned about you, obviously. What good man goes home at dawn every day? You're probably fooling around outside. A man should conduct himself properly. You should get off work earlier and go home to do housework and cook. That's how you win a girl over." Her words irritated me, and my tone turned sharp. "Ms. Morrison, you're just a driver. You're not anyone to me. Don't overstep."

My name is Elena Valesi Moretti. I'm a Brooklyn mob bride, a pawn in everyone's game. My father Enzo traded me for an alliance. My sister Isabella played the saint while secretly selling our baby sister Sofia to the Bianchi family behind closed doors. And my husband, Dante Moretti—the man with winter in his eyes who whispered “Try to run, I’ll break your legs” on our wedding day—he married me because when I was fifteen years old, I once pointed a gun at him inside a burning building. The only rule in this marriage was simple: stay out of his way. I spent three years breaking it. I sat in on council meetings and memorized every traitor's secret. I stood and watched a man's finger be severed to teach my own brother the price of betrayal. I turned myself into a blade. Then I uncovered the truth—Dante knew everything from the start. He knew my father had planted a mole inside his inner circle. He knew my sister was a trafficker's broker. He knew the woman he married was meant to be disposable from the very beginning. But there's one thing he never accounted for. He didn't marry a lamb. He married a wolf who learned how to draw blood. Now someone is trying to sell my little sister, and I have six weeks to stop it. I'm going to beat this man at every game he ever taught me.

Three years after graduation, I was waiting tables at a restaurant when I happened to run into some of my old classmates having a private dinner there. The moment they saw me carrying trays, they burst out laughing. My old rival Elliot sneered that I was a useless nobody, then pulled out 50 bucks and tossed it in front of me, telling me to lick the food scraps off his shoe. "Clean my shoe, and that fifty's yours!" Even my ex-girlfriend joined in to humiliate me. "I can't believe this is what you've become three years after graduation, Chase. Good thing I dumped you when I did—I'd hate to be the girlfriend of some broke loser." Elliot and a few others pinned me to the floor, forcing me to kneel and even bark like a dog. My ex clapped her hands, laughing. "Chase, you really do look like a dog when you're on your knees." Then, the restaurant manager rushed in. The moment he saw me, his face went pale with shock. "M–Mr. Levine… are you all right, sir?" Blood dripping down my forehead, I pointed at everyone in that room. "No one leaves this room tonight."

My husband's first love posted a video on her social media. In the video, the two of them were passing a playing card with their lips. When the card fell, their lips met in a kiss. They didn't stop—lost in the moment, they kissed passionately for an entire minute. Her caption read: [Still the same clumsy piggy! PS: Steve's skills are as good as ever!] I quietly liked the post and left a comment: [Congrats.] The next second, my husband called, yelling at me furiously, "No other woman is as dramatic as you! I was just playing a game with Lanie. Why are you acting crazy again?" It was then that I realized seven years of love meant nothing. It was time for me to leave.

My younger sister, Camilla Voss, and I were unexpectedly transported into a cursed world of werewolves. The Moon Goddess gave us a choice to decide our fate. Option One: become an Alpha Female, wielding power strong enough to destroy the heavens and earth, but cursed with a grotesque, bloated body. Option Two: become a Moon Blessed—physically weak, yet blessed with breathtaking beauty and extraordinary fertility. In my past life, Camilla chose to become the Alpha Female while I became the Moon Blessed. The pack shunned Camilla for her crude appearance, while I relied on my intelligence and reproductive gift to support three Alpha King's heirs born without wolf spirits, helping them reclaim their thrones. Consumed by jealousy, Camilla went mad. While I was in labor, she poisoned me with silver. With my last breath, I dragged her down with me. When I opened my eyes again, we were back at the moment of choice. This time, Camilla seized the Moon Blessed identity before I could. "Seraphina, the throne of the Luna Queen is mine this time. As for those three worthless cripples who can't even maintain their wolf forms, I’ll generously leave them to you." I forced down the wild surge of joy in my chest. What was so good about becoming breeding stock for three twisted monsters? She had no idea—on this land where only the strong survive, absolute power is the only thing that crushes everything else.