Novel & Cerita Isabella Murad Now

Maria continues, playfully bumping her shoulders into mine. “Hopefully that won't happen for a few more years.” I heard my mother say from behind me before I could refute my friend. “Isabella just became Queen and has had a rocky start due to the Shadows attacking our land. Not to mention she has to deal with Damon Frost and his change in attitude since finding out she is Alpha Queen.” My mother continues, pulling me into her arms and giving me a tight hug.

(Guys, from here inwards, Isabella will be called Bella. Enjoy!) Years ago Isabella Grey was 6 years old when her mother died. It was barely three months after her mother's death that her father brought home another wife. They even had a daughter who is a year older than Isabella. Her new mother was none other than her mother's best friend aunt May.

“The councils… they're having a meeting.” “What?” Isabella stepped forward immediately. “A meeting without my presence?” She looked to Elara, “and without Elara's presence? She's a part of them.” “That… that's not all,” the maid's gaze dwindled. “What more?” The maid exhaled, hands crossed on her chest, as she dropped the bombshell, “someone… has occupied the Alpha's seat,”

“Are you saying that Natalia… is alive?” “Very much alive.” Margot smiled triumphantly. “That… that’s not possible,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “It is.” Margot leaned forward, relishing Isabella’s bewilderment. “In fact, I spoke with her. She’s not the same simple girl she used to be.” Now she’s a successful, powerful businesswoman… and, frankly, stunning. The silence that followed was unbearable. Isabella could feel all the women’s attention fixed on her, not with concern, but with a mixture of morbid fascination and satisfaction.

My stomach churned. In the photos, Isabella had ditched that pure white dress. She was in a nightclub, making out with the Matteo family's second son, her arms around his neck. In the next one, she appeared on a private yacht, having dinner with a Russian gang leader. This woman wasn't just two-timing—she was hooking up with everyone she met. But when I flipped to the last page, my nails dug deep into the paper. I was trembling with rage. It was a secret report from three years ago. I recognized the handwriting—Isabella's.

“And if Codex is being shuffled off like some cursed relic, then she’s either making a plan… or she’s trying to keep it from somebody.” “Maybe both,” I muttered, jaw clenching. “In any case we have to get to it before The Oracle moves it again.” Isabella’s stood erect, her arms crossed, shoulders tight. She didn’t look at me — hadn’t really looked at me since Lena had walked in. Since before that, actually. “I will go with you,” I said, moving in. “To Morocco.” That caught her eyes at last. She hesitated. It wasn’t a momentary pause. It was the sort of hesitation that meant she was adding something up — me, maybe. And comparing my offer to whatever Vivianne had planted in her head.

Now it’s too late. Attached: A photo of a young Isabella—tied, bruised, in a Russian basement. Timestamp: 2015. Moscow.

I questioned, stretching my hand towards the divorce papers Brandon was holding. He hesitated but he eventually gave it to me. I smirked at him, winked at Stella, whose face had now turned pale, before I scribbled my signature on the paper and dropped it on the table. “There you go,” I murmured, my eyes locked on him. “Now you can finally be with Stella without the guilt… or the thrill of cheating. Let’s see how long the spark lasts when it’s just the two of you.” Without wasting time, I voiced. “I, Issabella Crawley, reject Alpha Brandon of Moonshine pack as my chosen mate.” I felt a sting in my heart but I ignored it. Alpha Brandon hesitated but he accepted my rejection.

I stood at the door of the jet, taking one last look at the city that had buried my love and my child. Isabella, the wife of Vince Moretti, died in Chicago. The woman returning to New York was the Princess of the DeLuca family. And I would make them pay. In blood.

“I brought food for everyone. Just a little something to keep the team energized.” Celia smiled, polite but cool. “That’s thoughtful of you. But you can call me Mrs. Bernardino. I'm married to Andres' father now.” “Oh, yes, Aunt Celia. I’m so sorry. It completely slipped my mind,” Isabella said with a crooked smile, sensing the tension in the woman’s voice. Her aura was different. “Please try some,” Isabella insisted, offering a plate. Celia raised a hand gently. “No, thank you. We had a quick bite earlier.”