Refugee Book Isabel Novels & Stories

"Well, Connor is a friend of Kate's. He's done some work for her in the past and is tight with her family, so he was out there on vacation with them, as guests of Richard Branson." "And there was a fire?" "There was an attempted kidnapping." "Holy shit," Mark muttered. "So the fire was just a story then?" Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Stop jumping ahead of the story, Mark. This team of criminals got on the island in the middle of the night, set off some alarms, and Richard Branson escaped on this mini-scuba submarine thing he's got." "That's good." "Well, not really," Jasmine frowned. "He left everyone else to the criminals, including his mother, Kate Winslet and her kids and twenty three other

When she tried to retrieve her belongings, their predatory gazes made her flee in fear, abandoning her luggage. Sitting on the roadside, she broke down in tears. But after crying, she wiped her tears and smiled bitterly. Before Nathan found her four years ago, wasn’t she just a penniless beggar with nothing? Determined to survive, Isabella started scavenging for food in trash bins, much like the other homeless people.

I want Isabella to understand how dangerous the situation is. "Stop calling me Isabella Romani. I don't know what that is. I feel like I don't know who I am anymore. Every time you give me a new name. I don't trust Amelia Romani. Why would I trust Amelia Brasco? Besides, it was easy to slip away from all your guards. I grew up in an orphanage. Do you know how difficult it is to slip out of an orphanage and go to town? We only went to town to go to the store where one of the guys always felt sorry for us and gave us sweets," Isabella says.

Every second that passed was another step closer to either freedom or destruction. By evening, Isabella had returned to her apartment—but only to collect what she needed. She moved swiftly, packing documents, burner phones, a laptop, and cash. She knew she couldn’t stay there anymore. It was only a matter of time before Blackwood’s men arrived, and she had no intention of waiting around to be captured. The burner phone buzzed just as she was zipping up the duffel bag. Unknown number. She answered cautiously. “Is this the woman who wants to burn the king’s castle down?” a gravelly male voice asked.

I remembered the Isabella from years ago. Before her disastrous marriage. Before the abuse and trauma. She had volunteered at animal shelters. Donated money to children's charities. Never spoke ill of anyone. "Do you remember," I said slowly, "when we were younger? You used to feed stray cats behind your apartment building." Isabella's face softened slightly at the memory. "You would save part of your lunch money to buy them food," I continued. "You said every living creature deserved kindness." "That was different," she whispered. "How was it different?"

And in this moment, she was a profound and terrifying reminder that the world she had so briefly escaped was still very real. She walked out of the office, the resignation letter a silent, powerful presence in her drawer, a secret that bound her to a life she was both desperate to leave and terrified to lose. The war had just begun, and for the first time in her life, Isabelle Dela Cruz had a side to choose. And she had no idea which side she would choose.

Battle-worn and bonded. Isabella’s growth, in particular, had startled even her. What began as quiet love had grown into resilience. She had taken up voluntary work with young women at the parish, guiding them in art and creative writing. The walls of her past had been papered over with her own words, her own victories. The girl who had once craved escape had now become an anchor to others. But Ember Hill, for all its small-town charm, had long memories. Whispers remained. About Arthur’s fall. About Catherine.

Eliza cautiously inched away from the two brothers, hoping while she did so that they’d stay consumed with each other and not notice when she ran like the wind to get away from them. She was still confused by the topic of their conversation, but she clearly understood the words ‘killing people’ and ‘us or them’. That was all she needed to hear for panic to flood her body and the need to flee as quickly as possible to become overwhelming.

Not like she did not trust Eliza, but the man who called her advised her to be smart this time. "Don't bother to drive me home anymore, I need to go somewhere," Isabel said, her voice had taken strength unlike few minutes ago when it was flat and hopeless. Isabel thought that fate had decided to help her in fighting for her dead child, Isabel walked out quickly from Eliza's house and chattered a cab to where she could take a bus to travel to the state that Fia river was. Nathaniel Dave and Felix watched as Isabel walked out of a house and went to take a cab, "Apparently, she slept here overnight, I'll follow her, find out who owns that apartment," he said to Felix.

“I’ve seen Isabella Dean, and she is not that big.” “She didn’t have to be. All she had to do was stand up to the bully and kick her butt. She used some great defensive moves and a few others, and they were all defeated. Some even became friends with Isabella like Sarah Jacobs.” “I don’t know her.” “That’s okay. She was one of the ones who later came to help Isabella out.” “So, why are you in therapy?” Julecia looked at Tiffany. “I’m there because of what the human traffickers did to me.”