Isabella Murad Now Novels & Stories

“He’s in Moscow. Is uh…Raisa here?” I haven’t really been in contact with her ever since she went to study in Spain for the semester. “No, but her brother is.” Isabella tells me and sits down on the bed. “Are you okay?” “Yes, I’m healing.” I say and take a seat by the table that has been converted into a makeup table. “They're not even together anymore! I’m pretty sure it officially lasted two or three days.” Isabella adds, even though I didn’t ask. It’s good to know though.

“Perhaps not yet. But do you think our enemies will not use her against you? Do you think your they will not see this as a sign of weakness?” I clenched my jaw. I hated this. Hated that they weren’t wrong. “She is under my protection,” I said. “No one will touch her.” His lips thinned. “And what of the contract?” My muscles tensed. I knew this would come up. The contract that bound Isabella to my Mafia—an arrangement to settle her family’s debt. “She is already your mate,” Elias continued. “There is no need to keep her tied by a contract. Let her go.”

She smirked at her and walked towards her. She changed her expression to an exciting smile. "It's good to see you, Bella! I missed you!" as soon as Diara told her name. Aquam felt like a splash of cold water engulfing his body. He couldn't believe what he heard. Isabella!!! She's his ex- fiancé! His mouth opened for a second to speak, but no words came out. Monique and Benedict weren't doing well either. They already knew Bella's drastic change when Diara told them about the event that happened at the store, but still couldn't believe their own eyes. They wouldn't even recognize her if they see her somewhere else.

The photo wasn't very clear, but Enzo could recognize that face even with his eyes closed. Isabella wasn't dead. In fact, not only was she not dead, she was living well in Vorema. In the photo, she stood beside Luca in a long black dress. Her hair was pinned up, and her back was straight. Her whole bearing seemed as if she had been honed anew. Compared to the woman who had lain in a hospital bed three months ago, her face deathly pale and her head wrapped in bandages, she was now sharper and far more radiant.

If he showed up at all. Isabella closed her eyes, let the water soothe her aching muscles, and tried not to think about how different her life had become. Three months ago, she'd been Dimitri Valentino's fiancée. Poised to become one of the most powerful women in the organization. Respected. Feared. Important. Now? Now she was alone in her apartment, waiting for a man whose name she didn't know to decide if she was worth his time. God, when had she become this person?

Yet glancing from the road to shoot me, narrowed stares. Sure—the Radcliffes were billionaires themselves, but Madam Isabella was a whole class of her own. The Radcliffes were just as connected as I had thought. An appointment with Madam Isabella Ferara meant something. Madam Isabella had a schedule that would make even POTUS look lazy. “Since I have done most of the work for you. You should get me my Villa d'Este, she said, bringing us back to the topic at hand. Her obsession with the Villa d'Este.

I chuckled before I pulled her by the chin and I was pulling her closer to my face. “Never in this lifetime,” I said before we were kissing under the moonlight. I have been miserable when I was leaving Italy because I don’t have anything that inspired me to keep moving forward but with Isabella Rodriguez, I think I can finally do this again. “Just one more thing I need to add,” she said as Sabel broke the kiss. I arched my eyebrow at her before she cleared her throat. “I want you to take my last name since the inheritance will be going to my husband. But if he did not have my surname, it will transfer it to my uncle by default,” she said as I nodded.

Isabella said. I usually forgot how intuitive Isabella could be when she really wanted to know things. "Who called you?" I asked. I was not ready to talk about Monroe or my dad. "Camilla Valdez." The name puzzled me. "Why? Is she calling you?" I asked still lost. I knew about her gunning for my wife but I did not think that she would start her onslaught now. "Apparently, to lay claim on you," She replied. "What?" Isabella played the recording of the phone call of her sordid conversation with Camilla. I was rattled.

I spun around, my Glock raised, my heart hammering against my ribs. From behind a massive pillar, a figure emerged. It wasn't Killian. It wasn't a Blackwood Reaper. It was a woman. She was dressed in a simple white linen shift, her hair a cascade of silver, her eyes a haunting, familiar shade of violet. She looked like a ghost, but the warmth of her breath in the cold air told me she was very much alive. "Who are you?" I demanded, my finger tightening on the trigger. "I am the one Lucian couldn't save," she said, her voice a melodic, tragic hum. "I am Isabella Moretti. The Grand Patriarch’s first 'successful' experiment. And your mother’s twin sister."

Then another. Nadia stared at her. “Who is she?” The woman reached us. “Move!” Her voice was familiar. I stared at her face. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. A scar across her cheek. I had seen her before. Not in person. In photographs. In the Black Veil archive. “Isabella?” She looked at me. “About time you recognized me.” My heart raced. Isabella Voss. One of Lucien’s supposed former wives. One of the women everyone believed had died because of him.