Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 333

Fitzgerald Hospital-Outside the Operating Room

The corridor was cold and silent, its air heavy with tension.

Mrs. Deanna Fitzgerald paced anxiously, her steps uneven as the family butler hovered nearby, ready to steady her if she faltered.

Victor strode in, his presence immediately commanding attention.

The moment Deanna saw her grandson, she clung to his hand, her voice

trembling with tears. "Oh, Victor, thank God you're here..."

"What happened this time?" Victor asked, his tone clipped and urgent.

The butler only shook his head, unable to find any words.

Victor's brow furrowed with worry.

Just then, the double doors of the operating room swung open. The hospital director and the attending physician stepped out, their faces grave.

Deanna, desperate and afraid, was the first to speak. "Doctor, how is he? He's going to be alright, isn't he?"

The physician let out a weary sigh. "Mrs. Fitzgerald, Mr. Fitzgerald-please accept our condolences."

The words hit Deanna like a blow. Her knees buckled, and she nearly collapsed. Rage flared in her eyes as she shouted, "Condolences? That's all you have to say? After everything our family has done for this hospital-after all the money we've given you doctors-this is the best you can do? I don't believe it. Victor, call in the best specialists from abroad, now!"

The hospital director interrupted gently, "Mr. Fitzgerald, you should go in and see him while you still can."

down

expression was grim. He nodded curtly, helping his

business world for decades,

to his side, collapsing onto the bed. Her

strength, Dorian lifted his hand toward Victor. "Life and death... are in God's hands. Victor... promise me one thing. The Fitzgerald Group must

his grandfather's hand tightly, jaw clenched. "I promise. I

his head slightly, his gaze softening. "And your grandmother... she's lived a life of comfort. If she

faded, Dorian's hand

"Granddad!" Victor cried.

heart-wrenching wail

ISA Grandeur Hotel

waited all night at the

the moonlight, casting a dreamlike glow across the ast

hyacinths, lisianthus, wild gardenias-so many

Isadora searched their meanings on

a single message:

if it

deep down, Isadora realized she was

little, into something

Her resolve was wavering.

that God might punish

for her to be a

from

petals, murmuring to

morning, sunlight poured through the windows like golden

by the shrill ring of