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.

model cars and shining trophies caught

the sitting area, study, and bathroom

standing with her head down, lost in

an arm around her slender waist

"What's wrong?"

up at him, her clear eyes searching

first time

of hair from her forehead, eyes dark and

was lying, but he let

for a while," he said softly. "I'll have someone bring you

you going?" Isadora asked, catching his hand

fingers, his deep eyes glinting with

bear to let

let go.

an eyebrow, his voice

care of some

I was

Feel free to

footsteps

behind him, Victor leaned

hand to his left shoulder, where a sharp, tearing

back at the gates of Fitzgerald Manor, the stitches

he straightened, forcing himself to cross into the

and told them to bring the family