Isabella Madrigal Novels & Stories

Isabella stood outside in the garden, confused out of her mind. "What just happened? I was standing near that lake. How did I get here?" She thought outloud. A maid who was just coming inside the house, saw Isabella and misunderstood her as Arabella. "Miss Arabella? You came back from the run? Come on inside. Your mother and grandmother are waiting for you" the Maid ushered a confused Isabella inside the house. Isabella followed the maid with a confused frown on her face. Elvina is Arabella's mother and Doris is her mother's mother, her grandmother.

“It’s time we began to initiate plans of finally bringing down Robert and the Mondragons. he spewed, I want to ruin him. Publicly and personally.” My breath hitched in my throat. As I stared at him, unable to speak. The audacity of it, the sheer venom in his words, was staggering. Dante leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And you, Isabella, are the key to everything like I mentioned before. Not because of who you were, no....but because of who you’ve become.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Robert thinks you’re dead. That’s your power. You can walk through his world like a ghost....and ghosts don’t play fair.”

He tried to get on to his feet, wincing in pain as he did so. Isabelle did not appear to be fazed by this new turn of events. Her face twisted into a sneer. “So, Oswald, do you want to show me what you’re made of?” David stepped inside. “What have you done to her?” “Isabelle has become a member of the Brethren!” Belinda was aware of movement behind her and she twisted round to see the bar emptying through the back door with the entrance of David Oswald. Isabelle seemed to notice this too and she laughed. “They might be scared of you, Oswald, but I’m not!”

Isabella is a human girl, who was kidnapped to replace her look alike Arabella. Isabella is confused and before she could understand where she is and what's happening, she is being claimed by Blaze.

Isabella was staring at the intelligent, stunning and sporadically tender man, her husband, reflecting if that was what destiny had in store for her. A few days ago, she was just Isabella... Isabella Duarte. A waitress who lived in a rental one-room apartment in Madrid. Perhaps a bit of a loner, as she had absolutely no dear friend or family, yet she was independent and perfectly satisfied with how life was going at that particular time. Even if most girls her age went from party to party and took everything for granted, even if she had to work for every single thing in her life, she was content that way.

"I thought that was it." "No, there's a few updates on the four names you selected on the first pass. Shmi?" "Okay, Eva Green is at home in France having a few months off, so there's nothing happening there." "That's one down," Mark said, looking pointedly at Jasmine. "Missy Peregrym is in Vancouver, but her sisters band have just been dropped by their record label and I asked our music guys to check them out," Lakshmi explained. "They think the lead singer has some potential so are checking out a few songwriters to work with her in the studio as a possibility."

🎧MUSIC🎧 🎶 she's my everything, my queen🎶 🎶my pride, my joy, my weakness🎶 🎶she remains the queen of my heart🎶 🎶she brightens my world🎶 🎶she makes my life meaningful🎶 🎶I'll live and die with her whether the world and other realms like it or not🎶 🎶 she is my woman, my property🎶 🎶My life I'll give in exchange for hers if need be🎶 🎶My memories with her will last forever🎶 Tears kept dripping down Isabella's cheeks. This is the sweetest voice I've ever listened to she mumbled.

Tears started streaming down Isabella’s face, mixing with the rage, with the insanity, with everything broken inside her. “You’re wrong,” she whispered. “You’re wrong. I love you more than she ever could. More than anyone ever could.” “No,” Landon said simply. “You don’t even know what love is.” Something in Isabella snapped. Completely. Finally. Irreversibly. She laughed. High and manic and terrifying. The sound echoed through the church, making people who’d started to peek out from behind pews duck back down in fear. “You think you won?” Isabella said through her laughter, through her tears, through her madness. “You think this is over?”

That night, Ferdinand found Isabella in her private garden, tending to the night-blooming jasmine that reminded her of her homeland in Spain. The garden was one of the few places in the palace where conversations couldn't be overheard by his father's extensive spy network—Isabella had seen to that with careful magical wards and strategic landscaping. "You've made your decision," she said without looking up from her flowers. "Was it that obvious?" "You have the same expression your mother used to get when she'd decided to stand up to your father, regardless of the consequences." Isabella's voice was soft with old grief and fresh worry. "That stubborn tilt of the chin, like you're preparing to