Isabella Lovestory Age Novels & Stories

Isabella said, showing Chloe a picture she had taken of the mansion where Sebastian was in the background. “Yeah, he is quite friendly. And he dots me. I feel lucky.” Chloe replied, grinning from ear to ear. Isabella zoomed in on his picture and stared at it a little longer. Chloe noticed and asked, “What is it?” “Uhmm…Chloe, now that you too are close, can you help me tell him– I like him?” Isabella asked, leaving Chloe stunned. “Girl, you're sick! The dude is older than Blake. We are like ten years apart. And you– he’s almost 20 years older than you!” Chloe exclaimed.

After listening to her father, Isabella answered his question, "Mom loves you very much. According to her medical report, she was admitted to the hospital several times after you absconded. She cried herself to sleep whenever it was your birthday." Isabella paused and then suddenly said, "The 14th of February is your birthday, right?" Chris was startled. With a smile on his face, he replied, "Yes." After hearing his response, Isabella continued, "She never went out on this date, no matter how many invitations she received from men. She always hid herself in her room and cried her heart out. She loved you so much that she refused to tell me you abandoned us; instead, she lied to me, saying yo

Hearing this, a weight lifted from Isabella’s heart. “Theo, while I’m busy studying, I might not be able to look out for you. You have to stay sharp and avoid getting schemed against.” Theodore’s eyes, as luminous as stars, softened with his gentle smile. “Sis, why are you nagging like an old lady? You’re only 22.” Isabella froze. That’s right, she was only 22. Yet she had already experienced so much hardship. Despite her young age, the countless sorrows and separations she had endured had left her with a world-weary heart.

Lucius stood in the warm glow of the candles, his handsome and resolute features bathed in a gentle light, outlined in unmatched beauty. “Bella, happy 20th birthday,” he said in a deep voice, like a strummed guitar string. Isabella was stunned. Her birthday, she thought, she might have even forgotten it herself. The last time she had celebrated her birthday with family was when she was 15. Her grandfather’s loving face was still vivid in her memory. It was that year, after her grandfather passed away, no one else had remembered her birthday. Her vision suddenly blurred, and without her realizing it, a tear rolled down her cheek.

THIS CONTENT MAY BE UPSETTING TO SOME READERS DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18±. The forest had always been forbidden. Thick with ancient pines and shadows that moved when nothing should. But Isabella was never one to listen to warnings. At twenty-two, she was too beautiful for her own good long raven hair that fell like silk to her waist, skin pale as moonlight, full lips the color of ripe berries, and eyes the deep green of summer leaves. Men in the village called her Beauty behind her back, and sometimes to her face. She hated the name. It felt like a cage.

She kept twitching in front of him like she had scabies on her legs which bothered her a lot. “Which of them is the youngest?” "Oh, do you like young girls now, dear Nickson?" "Just say it, Isabella. I don't want to waste time." Nickson took another quick gulp of his brandy to vent his frustration at his stupidity tonight. "Then Danny. She's only twenty." Nickson gave a fleeting nod. And flicked to his right. “Bring her here. You can take the others away."

Before she could finish her sentence she was interrupted by Tristan. Isabella looked at her son like this and felt very uncomfortable in her heart. "Tristan... What do you mean by that you don't want to talk about it... You are already in your 30s. When are you going to get married? Don't tell me if Stella didn't married and decide to stay single for the rest of her life, you are going to wait for her... "

she glared at me then turn to her mom who was still chuckling. "Tell me you are kidding, you aren't seriously planning to wear that dress to a modern day masquerade ball?" Said the queen. Still laughing though. "Isabella," I couldn't contain my laughter. "What kind of old fashioned ball do you think we are going to?" I asked her. "Hey don't blame me, I have been sleeping for a century and three decades." Said Isabella before seeming to have caught herself from spilling more secret. "You have been sleeping, for a century and..."

Dante at the opera, at gallery openings, at boxing matches. He wasn't just a criminal. He was New York royalty in a blood-stained crown. And he wanted to make her a proposal. The knock on her door came exactly an hour later. Isabella Sofia burst in like sunshine, all bright smiles and bouncing energy. At nineteen, she still looked like the baby sister Isabella remembered—lighter brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, wearing Columbia sweatpants and their mother's locket around her neck. She carried a bag of bagels and two iced coffees, somehow balancing everything while texting on her phone.

My identity was the only thing I had left. “I—“ I didn’t have the words, and I couldn’t form a sentence; I only stared at him as if he had grown two horns. Kill Isabella Monroe, the woman who was betrayed, the woman who trusted too easily, the woman who lost everything because she was too blinded to see the truth. Those were the words that rang in my head. "Do you think you're strong enough for that?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "You're falling apart over your face, Isabella . What makes you think you can get revenge when you're losing your mind over a scar?"