Isabella Novels & Stories

Alpha Liam looked at her with a shocked eye. ************************************** Abel returned to the palace that morning and heard that Isabella was found in the town square, he used all his power to look for her but couldn't find her. So he had all her pictures plastered all through the town. As he went to town and made an announcement.

The people admired their rulers, not only for their commitment to the kingdom's well-being but also for the love and unity they embodied. On a day that marked the anniversary of Isabella's passing, the kingdom came together to celebrate her memory and honor the ongoing work of the Princess Isabella Foundation. Gabriel, Elena, and Sofia stood before the gathered crowd, sharing stories of love, resilience, and the power of making a difference. It was a bittersweet moment, as they remembered Isabella's impact and the love that had sparked their own journeys.

Isabella "Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of our very own Isabella Vega and Max Blackwell," Father Raffaele begins as soon as the choir finishes off the song. Words can't describe how I felt when I first heard it playing behind the closed doors. Max has really outdone himself this time.

“Felix, I've been looking all over for you.” Valfred let go of his hand and stood back. It was either she was blind, dumb or both to not realise the tension going on here because she just kept smiling widely and looking from Felix to the Prince and back. She stretched her hand out past me. “My Prince, my name is Isabella.” She irritated me and she hadn't even done anything wrong to me. Valfred didn't take her hand but he did respond. “Hello.” She pointed to the corsage in his breast pocket.

Isabella tilted her head, her eyes now narrowing with a smirk. “Nice?” she echoed, “I don't get… Or wait... are you Jesus Christ now?” Isla let out a quiet, unfazed chuckle and nodded gently. “Uhm… No,” she corrected in the same tone. “I’m the woman who owns this chessboard.” Those words made Isabella go momentarily silent. Right after then, Isla started to move even closer until she was just a few inches away from the other lady’s chair, and then, from the fold of her coat, she pulled out a slim envelope.

Isabella's moonlight monitor beeped steadily. "I'm dying," Isabella said. "We both know it." I stayed silent. Even weakened, she still had that calculating look. "Before I join the eternal hunt, I have confessions," she continued. She struggled to sit up. "I'm not Vivian Stone's daughter." I kept my face blank. But my mind raced. "I'm the illegitimate pup of Theresa Rivers and Richard Stone," Isabella said. Her voice grew stronger. "Theresa switched us as pups. She gave Vivian her real daughter while keeping me hidden."

"Isabella, this is Katherine." Katherine’s breath caught in her throat as her mind scrambled to process the name. Isabella Seymour...? Her eyes widened, the realization crashing into her like a sudden wave. Of course. That’s why she had seemed so familiar—that striking red hair, the effortless confidence, the piercing blue eyes. She wasn’t just anyone. She was 'the' Isabella Seymour, the globally renowned actress, the woman whose face had been plastered across magazine covers, whose name carried power in Hollywood and beyond.

A little girl with long dark hair, standing in front of the Abram estate, a ribbon tied at her wrist. Isabella stared at it for so long I thought she had stopped breathing. Then she shoved it back across the table, her voice breaking. “Stop it! Stop trying to make me someone I’m not! I’m not her. I’m not Marisol Abram. I’m Isabella, and that’s all I can survive being.” Her shout echoed, shattering the fragile quiet. She pressed her hands to her temples, shaking her head as if she could erase the images, the words, the weight pressing down.

Devo smirked. I opened the door for Isabella at the truck. She climbed into her seat and sighed. It must have felt like such a long day for her. After I drop Niles and Devo off, I’m going to take her home, run a warm bath for her, and pamper her all night. As soon as we started moving, I explained that Isabella was a mafia princess and had been betrothed to Antonio. “Holy shit,” Devo expressed. “Was that the dude who was at the rally?”

I had to fight to hold it down. Dante sneered. "I'm not interested in her type. If she hadn't pissed off Isabella, I wouldn't have wasted a second on a gold-digging whore like her." Isabella. Hearing her name felt like a punch to the gut. Isabella Morrison, the girl who bullied me for three years straight at our private school. She was a princess of Chicago's elite; I was just a scholarship kid. She was always finding ways to humiliate me, to make me feel worthless.