Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 150

Isadora hung her head, turning her face away.

She couldn't bear for this man to see her looking so utterly defeated and humiliated.

It was supposed to be her 24th birthday—a day for celebration. Instead, it had become a cruel joke.

She could face the world with icy detachment, could withstand almost anything.

But this one small act of tenderness shattered the protective armor she'd fought so hard to maintain.

Her fingers clenched tighter; she bit down on her lip, leaving a faint mark on its soft curve.

The jacket draped over her shoulders was heavy with the faint scent of pine- Victor's scent—its warmth pressing down on her, making her shiver involuntarily.

A lump formed in her throat.

Victor, ever domineering, reached out and hooked a finger under her chin, insisting she look up at him whether she wanted to or not.

He made her meet his gaze.

Victor's eyes bore down on her, dark and intent, his voice dropping even lower. "Who hit you?"

His shadowed gaze swept the room, sharp as a blade, leaving a chill in its wake.

The crowd instinctively stepped back, cowed by his presence. No one dared provoke the infamous heir.

dragging

autumn water was cold, leaving

a single person had bothered to

shouted, "Who the hell pushed me in? Are you out of your minds? I'm the eldest

first to react, his voice suddenly harsh. "Enough! Shut your

composed himself, his usually stern face now wearing a sycophantic smile as he bent

not welcoming you properly. This is just a family matter that got out of

been abroad for years, had

his father, usually so proud, bowing and scraping like a beaten

grew. "Dad, he's the one who kicked me in! Why are

This is Mr. Fitzgerald-of

Fitzgerald Group. The most powerful family

industry, the Fitzgeralds had their hands in it, their wealth and influence

synonymous with power.

ran down Prescott's

him, a glint of ice in

Isadora's face. That was you, wasn't

shivering, now shook so hard his teeth chattered, unable to utter a single

his tie, rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, and slipped off

one she'd given him as a gift, not

steps toward Prescott. Each

face drained of color; he stumbled

Victor seized him by the collar