Refugee Isabel Novels & Stories

The palace guards rushed forward, weapons drawn, but stopped when the carriage door swung open. Inside sat a heavily pregnant woman, her face deathly pale and completely exhausted from travel. "Please..." she whispered weakly, clutching the carriage frame. "I need to see Lady Seraphina immediately." Moments later, Seraphina and Morwen hurried out into the sunny courtyard. The woman collapsed into Seraphina's arms, clutching her hands as if her life depended on it. "My name is Isabel," the woman gasped out, her eyes wide with terror. "I... I managed to escape from Raven's Keep."

"I expect you to verify it." Mia walked closer. "So tell me." Isabella shook her head. "Not yet." Mia's expression hardened. "You don't have the luxury of games." "I'm not playing one." "Then what do you want?" Isabella looked directly into Mia's eyes. "I want safe passage." Silence. "When this war ends..." Isabella continued, "...I leave the country." "No revenge." "No prison." "No one follows me." "I disappear." One of the guards scoffed. "That's your price?"

"This is the exact thing we bled through Budapest to secure. A generation of children who will never have to see the inside of a safehouse, learn how to use a fake passport, or know the shape of systemic violence. Children who can simply exist in the light without an alias." Isabella, the elder, was resting in her high-backed rocking chair in the deep shade of the cottonwood trees near the edge of the grass, her eyes peaceful as she monitored the games. She was visibly fading now, her physical frame appearing slighter with each passing week as the illness continued its predictable, unyielding advance through her system. Yet she flatly refused to look away from the lawn or go inside, keeping

“I’m sorry. You can’t leave. Mr. Dun gave strict orders. Please sit down and eat. It’s for your own good.” Isabel stopped. Her hands started shaking. She looked at the closed door and then back at the woman. “I just want my kids,” she whispered. “Please.” The staff member gave her a sad look. “I’m really sorry. I wish I could help more.” Isabel stayed curled on the bed with her knees pulled tight to her chest. She heard footsteps outside the door and then it flew open hard. Isaac stormed back in, his face red and his hands clenched at his sides.

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.

“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.”

She jerked away, rubbing her arm with a scowl. "What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped. "One second, you act like I don’t exist, and the next, you’re dragging me around like I’m some prisoner.” I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous level. "That’s because you are a prisoner, Isabella.” Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t back away. Instead, she lifted her chin defiantly. "I don’t feel like one,” she said, her voice steady. "Your people treat me better than you do.”

“I’ve done such horrible things, Mila, to you and to Felix. I cannot turn back on what I’ve done. I need you to arrest me. You’re the princess now. You can do that.” “Isabella, I do not need to arrest you at this very moment,” I said, slightly peeved. We could not delay on this evacuation. The timing was already so tight. “Take me to the prisoner of war camp,” she begged. “Let me be taken in with the rest of the army.” I knew there was suspicion written all over my face when she added, “This isn’t some sort of trick, Mila. Please. I do not deserve to be evacuated with the rest of these kind people.”

"I'm not implying anything. I'm asking directly: Do you actually believe Isabella is just a simple maid who happens to have caught your attention? Or do you know she's hiding something and you don't care?" "Everyone is hiding something—" "That's not an answer." I leaned forward. "Leon, I've been investigating her background as you asked. And there are... inconsistencies. Questions that don't have good answers." "Such as?" I pulled out one of my reports. "Isabella claims she came from Evergreen Pack. That she worked in a household there. But when I cross-reference the refugees who arrived with her, none of them remember her specifically. They remember a woman matching her description, but no

The girl took the small suitcase, in which she carried the four changes of clothes she had, which was all she had left, and returned to the shelter for the needy in which she had been living for the last few days. Just a few weeks ago, that house from which that man had kicked her out was his home, the place where Isabella grew up, however, now it belonged to the bank, all her things, both the house and her belongings, had been confiscated due to the enormous amount of debts that the young woman had been left with for the expenses made by her mother's illness, who had recently died.