Isabella Miller Novels & Stories

They stood in comfortable silence, two people who'd found each other in the worst circumstances and built something beautiful from the wreckage. Isabella thought about her parents. About Victor. About Vincent. About all the people who'd shaped her journey. Some through love. Some through cruelty. All of them part of the story that had led her here. She was Isabella Moretti Blackwell. Daughter of Lorenzo and Maria. Wife of Damien. Sister to Christopher. Director of the Moretti Fund. Builder of systems that helped instead of hurt. That was enough. More than enough. It was everything. --- **Final Scene**

Her head whipped so fast and she looked at me like I was some kind of an alien. "You're kidding right?" She looked at me with doubt. I nervously smiled and shook my head. "I am not. I never had a boyfriend." I cleared out. "What?" Sarah looked like she couldn't process what I said. Was it a crime to not have a boyfriend or not have a Hickie? "Arabella—" before she could say another word, the professor walked in and everyone quietened down. "This is not over." She warned me playfully before concentrating on the front where the professor stood handing out sheets of our essays. —

“They might be scared of you, Oswald, but I’m not!” “You really should be!” Isabelle shook her head and looked very sympathetic. “You just don’t understand do you, Oswald. I’m not just any old member of the Brethren. I’m the main man…if you’ll pardon the expression.” She ran her hands down her body and gave the most horrible leer that Alice had ever seen in her life. David ignored it. David took another step forward and Belinda saw Isabelle lift a foot, as if about to take a step backward. The foot was placed back down on the surface and she knew then that he/she/it had wanted to retreat but didn’t want to lose face.

She sometimes liked to chatter to the young girl. Since losing her sister Renata Campania in that incident, Isabel felt a deep loneliness. The emptiness in her heart was still so palpable even though she had become part of the Vitanian Frontline Witches Brigade. Her emptiness was only slightly cured after she was appointed as the main secretary. Isabel appointed Milla François as her assistant in filing and someone who always helped her in times of trouble. In addition to being good at administration, Milla also had traits and characteristics that were not too far from her late sister Renata. That slightly cured her longing.

Isabella’s POV Another rather uneventful day at work, well till it took an eventful turn. I was at my desk work, designing new computer programs for a new project with Paul and Ryan when the assistant Ryan and I shared called my intercom. “There’s a Miss Emma Miller here to see you.”Jenna said immediately I answered the call. “Emma Miller?” I ask confused, Ryan immediately turning to face me when he heard her name. “Yes Emma Miller, she’s in the lobby downstairs.” Jenna said again.

The weight of everything, of the Mafia, of my pack—it was crushing me. I stiffened. I felt her presence before I heard her. "You're avoiding me," Isabella’s voice was quiet, but accusing. I turned slightly. She stood in the doorway, wrapped in a jacket, her hair still slightly damp from a shower. Her face was unreadable, but I could see the emotions beneath the facade she decided to put up. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You should be resting." She scoffed. "You think I can sleep after everything that’s Happened? After bringing me here and then disappearing? I've been bored every damn day and I have basically nothing to do…"

ISABELLA I watched the sun rise on my wedding day with dry eyes and a hollow feeling in my chest. Sleep had been impossible, so I'd spent the night in my studio, finishing the commission that had seemed so important just days ago. Now the completed canvas leaned against the wall, a stranger's work created by a woman who no longer existed. By noon, Isabella Caldwell would disappear, replaced by Isabella Blackwood,wife of a man who had orchestrated her family's destruction.

She had thought I would try to take advantage of her. “Wait. You think….” I broke into a laugh, then stretched my hand for a shake. “I’m Isabella Crawford. A Famous artist of Dexluxe Art. I’m a worldwide sensation, so I don't need your money.” She doesn't take my hand. Instead, she typed something on her phone and only released a sigh of relief when she realized it. “I’m sorry. We have just been having reporters on our tails. It’s too much for her.” Her tensed shoulders had relaxed now. She stroked her hair.

Isabella stepped forward, her voice calm but steady. “I’m Isabella Laurent, and yes, I am the daughter of Helena Laurent, a whistleblower and former scientist involved in the Lazarus Initiative. My mother was silenced for uncovering illegal experimentation linked to an operation embedded within this very industry.” Murmurs rippled. “I didn’t know any of this until recently,” she continued, lifting her chin, “and even now, I’m still discovering the depth of it. But I’m not here to hide behind the past. I’m here to confront it.”

“Macy rolled her eyes. “Here we go with the victim speech.” “I was a victim,” Isabella said sharply. “And I won’t apologize for surviving something I didn’t choose.” The room went still. Even Camille looked at her in awe. I couldn’t stop staring. There she was..the same girl I left at the altar..now standing taller than ever. Not broken. Not begging. But whole. And still mine. Mum stepped forward. “You know what I think? You only stayed around because you knew Xavier would come crawling back. Poor boy still thinks you’re some innocent flower.”