Isabella Icardi Novels & Stories

I growled. Xavier crossed his arms. “We think she’s Arielle’s biological mother. Her name's Isabella Vargas. She wasn’t just some random woman. She was a high-end whore who specialized in powerful men. Slept with half the underworld in her prime… including the old Russian boss Ivan’s uncle. The one who ran things before him.” I flipped through the pages. There were more photos. Isabella in expensive hotels. Isabella on the arm of dangerous men. Isabella looked pregnant in one grainy shot.

Isabella was already seated when Selena slipped into the restaurant, sunglasses low on her face. Her expression was tight, irritated, and exhausted all at once. Isabella didn’t even wait for her to settle. “Selena… how are you holding up? With everything about Tatiana circulating?” Selena dropped into the chair with a sharp exhale. “How am I faring? I’m going to strangle whoever released that rubbish. That’s how I’m faring.” “You look like it.” Isabella folded her arms. “Welcome to the Idle Women's Fun Club. You already lost your job and not even your marriage could save you."

Hardin cuts in. "Shut Up!" Kol yells and he flinches. "Leave her out of this," I add. "Oh, she's very much in this," Diva whispers. She pulls out a tablet from the side table and slides her fingers across the screen. "Isabella is a scholarship student, isn't she? So bright. Such a spark. It would be a tragedy if the board received anonymous tips about her... extracurricular activities. Or if her dumb family is torn up more than it already is."

The timeline for the trial which was looking like eight to ten months from now. I asked my question at the end. “Isabella,” I said. “Any news.” He set his pen down. Looked at me. “The last confirmed sighting,” he said carefully, “was in Ibiza. She was briefly detained by immigration officers there following an Interpol alert.” I went very still. “Ibiza,” I said. “Yes. Approximately ten days ago.” Ten days ago I was in Ibiza. He kept talking. “She was processed and released on a technicality before the full warrant could be executed. The passport she was using had not yet been flagged in that database. By the time Interpol updated the system she had already cleared the airport.”

The closer Isabella gets, the quieter the area becomes. "Alejandro." A graceful smile appears on her face, but I know her well enough to see the tension under. "I wasn't told you were attending." "Last minute decision." Her eyes move toward Camila. "And this must be your wife." Camila extends her hand. "Camila Reyes." Isabella accepts it. "Isabella Hart." The handshake lasts exactly two seconds. Long enough. "I've heard a lot about you," Isabella says smoothly. Camila smiles. "Really? That's interesting because until tonight, I didn't even know you existed."

"I saw someone who would fight. Someone who understood that this life isn't about glory or power—it's about survival. But there's more." "There's always more with you." "Isabella." He said her name like a curse. "Your sister. She's been working with the Bianchis for three years. Not as a bride. As a negotiator." The floor tilted. "That's not possible. Isabella despises this life. She told father she'd enter a convent—" "A convent, no. A penthouse in Milan paid for by Bianchi money, yes. She's been negotiating behind your father's back. Using his name. His contacts. Building her own network."

And now, Liam stood on that screen, holding his own son, promising to protect his family. "You promised too, Henry," Isabella said to the screen. Her voice was raspy. "You promised me the world." She looked at her reflection in the darkened glass of the window. It overlaid the image of Liam, creating a double exposure. Her eyes, lined with age and bitterness, stared back from his face. She wasn't twenty-two anymore. She wasn't the wild girl who waited in Paris. She was Isabella Voss. She owned shipping lines. She owned media conglomerates. She owned senators.

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.”

she laughed. “But I loved you, I did everything you wanted, I even fought my father for you…you were the lady with Allen in the club,” I cried. “How could you?” “I am sorry…” she said, her voice dripping in mockery. “I was ahead of you, did you think that you could dump me after giving you a son?” Allen moved the phone away. “Mike, I really wanted you to see me take over The Rodriguez's group, but Maria is just being a bitch right now…and you are not cooperating, I can't let you destroy all my years of efforts…Goodnight Mike,” he said cutting the call.

Papa questioned, looking at Zander. Shit. Zander’s POV Devo interjected, “All the guys on the team call her Izzy, Mr. Salvatore. When we’re calling out statistics to her, Isabella is just too long. She said only family calls her Bella, so we asked her if Izzy was ok.” Mr. Aventini turned to Isabella. “Why are all the boys on the football team calling your name, Bella?” He asked, crossing his arms and glaring. “I wanted to wait until it was official. I’m now a statistics analyzer for the football team, Papa,” Isabella advised. “My Dean said it would look amazing on my resume.”