Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 390

Isadora looked up, her dark eyes drawn irresistibly to Victor.

Under the soft lights, his profile was sharp, almost severe, his lashes casting shadows as he glanced down, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, she thought he might relent.

But Victor's voice, calm and unreadable, cut through the tension.

"If you want to make a scene, I won't stop you. But if Isadora is moving in, that's my decision. End of discussion."

Without waiting for a reply, Victor took Isadora's hand and led her forward.

Deanna's face drained of all color; she seemed to age a decade in an instant, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye.

Isadora followed Victor up the sweeping marble staircase, her gaze fixed on the tall man in the black jacket leading her onward.

She glanced back one last time at the chaos in the living room.

Pattie lay unconscious on the floor, blood from her forehead seeping into the rug. Deanna slumped on the sofa, barely conscious, her eyes dull and lifeless.

The household staff and family doctor stood frozen in place, too shocked to move. Earlier, at the entrance to the Fitzgerald estate, Isadora had only meant to half- jokingly complain to Victor, to vent her frustrations. She knew his temper-knew he might be upset by what she said-but she never expected him to go this far. Victor led her up to the third floor.

They walked down a long corridor, the walls lined with elegant, old-world paintings that spoke of the house's deep history.

At the very end, Victor stopped and opened a door.

The room was spacious, decorated in understated shades of deep blue.

inside, shelves of meticulously arranged model cars and shining

study, and bathroom

and saw Isadora standing with her head

slipped an arm around her slender waist and pulled

"What's wrong?"

looked up at him, her

my first time in Fitzgerald Mansion. It doesn't

a strand of hair from her forehead, eyes dark and

lying, but

softly. "I'll have someone

Isadora asked, catching

fingers, his deep eyes glinting with a teasing

to let me

quickly let

an eyebrow, his voice low

care of some

when I was

Feel free to

footsteps

behind him, Victor leaned

to his left shoulder, where a sharp, tearing agony

the gates of Fitzgerald Manor, the stitches in his

straightened, forcing himself to cross into

and told them to bring the family