Refugee Isabel Novels & Stories

Sebastian, a few maids, Ben, and Jacob were standing together, forming a human barrier as they encircled Isabel and Liam. Isabel was sitting on the floor with a backpack full of stuff on her back. Her favorite pink bag had been slung across her body. She hugged her pink bag, not allowing anyone to touch her. She was all choked up as she sobbed, “Izzy wants to find Mommy… You are all bad people. Let me go out now…” Her little face had turned red from crying, and her eyes were swollen. Sebastian had tears in his eyes from witnessing the heartbreaking scene before him. Ben, Jacob, and other people around Isabel were looking at her worriedly.

“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.”

I say. “She does not know I am sharing the location,” Rebecca says. “But she will not be surprised.” A pause. “She has been waiting for someone to ask for it.” I look at the paper on the table. And I think about Isabella in the rain outside her apartment building, her hands over her face, the city moving around her. I didn’t come here to destroy your family. I came here because I had no other choice. She came here because she was trapped. But she spent eighteen months building the rope to get out.

The timeline for the trial which was looking like eight to ten months from now. I asked my question at the end. “Isabella,” I said. “Any news.” He set his pen down. Looked at me. “The last confirmed sighting,” he said carefully, “was in Ibiza. She was briefly detained by immigration officers there following an Interpol alert.” I went very still. “Ibiza,” I said. “Yes. Approximately ten days ago.” Ten days ago I was in Ibiza. He kept talking. “She was processed and released on a technicality before the full warrant could be executed. The passport she was using had not yet been flagged in that database. By the time Interpol updated the system she had already cleared the airport.”

Quite honestly, I didn’t know why I was telling him all this, why I was ranting to someone I had just met. My tears fell freely now. “He looked me in the eyes and had me shot,” I whispered. “Like I was nothing. Like I was trash to be thrown away.” The room was silent except for my uneven breaths. “What do I have left?” I asked mostly to myself, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me, what do I have left?” Malakai's eyes studied me, and finally, he asked one question. Only one. “What exactly do you want, Isabella?”

"Maybe the circle completes when the work that started with Lily's vision is recognized at the highest level." "Will Mom make it that long?" Isabella asked gently. "Her body is stable," Baby Lily confirmed. "And her soul is determined. She'll make it to Oslo. Whatever she's waiting for, it's there." The months passed in preparation. Former clients organized delegations to attend. The Chen twins brought fifty rescued families from Singapore. Maria Santos led a group from Guatemala. Alexei Kozlov assembled refugee families from Eastern Europe. "The ceremony won't just be about us," Hope explained to the Nobel Committee. "It'll be about everyone whose life was changed. They're all coming to Osl

Alice asked. "I lived in the province of Taguig, but I was captured by these soldiers while traveling to visit my grandmother in Laguna. They killed my brother, and my parents and grandparents don’t know what happened to us," Isabela said, her eyes welling up with tears at the memory of her family. "My friends here are from Laguna. We were captured there, and my best friend has no idea where I am now," Alice said, suddenly thinking of Odette and missing her terribly. "I also have a best friend," Isabela said softly. "She lives in Taguig, and she’s married now, but we’re like sisters. The last time I spoke with her was before I traveled to Laguna with my brother. She’s so nice and beautiful,

Damien and Layla said in unison. Izabella headed down the steps as the married couple went inside. Izabella was in the states under refugee status. Parts of South America had been taken over by corrupted officials and gangs who demanded monthly protection money. Izabella and her two adult children had fled their country after the cartel killed her husband for not paying enough money from his restaurant business.

she asked, her tone clipped. “Please,” Isabel said, her voice cracking. “My baby is hungry, and I have nowhere to go. I—I can work for you. Anything you need, I’ll do it.” The woman’s lip curled in disdain. “We don’t take in beggars,” she said sharply. “Move along before I call the authorities.” The door slammed shut, leaving Isabel staring at the polished wood in stunned silence. She knocked on another house, then another, each rejection colder than the last. Some refused to open the door. Others hurled insults, calling her a thief, a whore. By the fourth rejection, Isabel’s strength was gone.