Isabella Murad Now Novels & Stories

Isabella didn’t even look at me when she spoke. Finally, the elevator dinged, and the door slid open to a gust of cold air. The rooftop was almost pitch black, if not for the dim light flickering above the entrance. Most corporate buildings around us already have their lights off. She stepped out first. I followed, loosening the tie at my neck, the night air cool against my skin. Without a word, she slipped out of her blazer and laid it neatly over the railing. By the time she turned back toward me, her stance had shifted. What stood before me now was Isabella Moretti, the princess heir of the Moretti clan.

*Isabella, Luna of Evergreen Pack. I read the description beneath: *"Luna Isabella, age 25, daughter of Marcus and Marina of the Hale family. Trained in combat from youth before her arranged marriage to Alpha Edmund. Known for her strategic mind and warrior skills. Mother of heir Magnus, age 5. Status: Missing, presumed dead following Redmoon's conquest."* My hands trembled as I held the document. Missing, presumed dead. But what if she wasn't dead? What if she'd survived and ended up here, in the palace, hiding in plain sight?

Maria’s face turns stern. I look at our new maid. Isabella, an omega who was appointed a few weeks back, right before the meeting. As per the records and her scent, she’s an omega of the Moonlight Pack. But behind those records lies the truth—Isabella is a trained member of the Iron Claw military camp, sent by Elijah to us. She’ll be working in the mansion as a full-time maid and be the hidden bridge that connects the Iron Claw Pack with my pack. Through her mind-link powers, I’ll be able to communicate with Elijah and set our future meetings.

“Isabella?..“ She turned slowly and the moment she saw me , her eyes lighted up with delightfulness and screamed, “Lovia!…” We both laughed and hugged each other joyfully. Isabella was almost like a sister to me, but we got separated when she moved abroad after college . We asked each other what was going on in our lives and spent the whole day at the yoga class talking about ourselves. That's when I found out something more delicious. Isabella is now the fiance of the great Alexander McQueen, one of the leaders of the YBA billionaire circle. “ Wow, the universe never seize to amaze me..“ I thought, he brought just a perfect pawn that can lead me into that circle.

she whispered, “I don’t think I can survive this humiliation.” Nobody moved. Then Sofia immediately grabbed Isabella’s face. “Don’t say that!” But Isabella only smiled through tears. A shattered smile. “Why not?” she whispered. “Nobody sees me anymore anyway.” The media no longer talked about Isabella Moretti. Now they talked about how the billionaire heir was so focused on business that he had practically forgotten his wedding while building a flourishing future for the country—as if my daughter had only been holding him back. People loved stories like that.

I had never been so sure about anything in my life like I was sure of this. His green eyes locked onto mine, studying me. “And how exactly do you plan on getting it?” “I’ll figure it out,” I said, trying to keep my voice firm, to assure myself that I was right, though deep down, I wasn’t sure how. Malakai let out a low hum, as if he found amusement in my situation. “With what resources? What connections? The world thinks you’re dead, Isabella . Your name, your power, your wealth—none of it exists anymore.”

ISABELLA’S POV The message lit up my screen just as I was about to step out of the room. Manager : "Check the news now. It’s about Jasmine. You need to see this." My stomach dropped. I quickly unlocked my phone and opened the news app. The headline slapped me across the face: "Supermodel Jasmine Mildred Opens Up About Isabella, Xavier... and Drake?" I clicked it, hands trembling. There she was, seated elegantly in a plush red chair, legs crossed, flashing that perfectly rehearsed smile. Her makeup was flawless. Her voice.. sweet. She looked like she hadn’t lost a single night of sleep while ruining lives.

“And I want legal clarification regarding prior share transfers. Rushing this benefits no one.” The meeting dissolved shortly after. Murmurs filled the hall as people gathered their things. I remained seated. I watched Isabella stand and exchange a few words with her companion, the lady from before. Isabella didn’t look back at me as she left the hall. I told myself I didn’t care, but my chest tightened regardless. Later, back in my office, I sat scrolling on my tablet through every mention of her ISMARA empire. Interviews, awards, fashion week coverage, profiles in business journals. Fashion week headlines in Milan, Paris, Tokyo.

And standing at the center of the cameras, draped in a white wool coat that looked like a coronation robe, was Isabella. She didn't run to Julian. She didn't check for injuries. She walked straight toward me, her eyes narrowed into lethal slits. "Elara Vance," Isabella said, her voice loud enough for the reporters to catch. "I suppose we should thank you for... 'assisting' our Alpha during this unfortunate terrorist attack. Though it’s curious how trouble seems to follow you like a stray dog." She stepped closer, her scent of jasmine spiked with a sharp, aggressive note of challenge. She leaned in, her nose twitching.

“I won’t spend the night sulking over you, Julien.” She turned away from the mirror and reached for the robe hanging by the door. Few hours later, Isabella stood before the full-length mirror in the suite, dressed in a black satin slip dress that shimmered gracefully. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, still damp, curling slightly at the ends. A touch of makeup, nothing too much since she wasn't a fan of it. Just red lips to cover the pale exhaustion. When she looked at herself this time, she didn’t see a wife. She saw a woman clawing her way back to herself.