Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 512

Lately, Nanette had been racking her brain trying to cheer Isadora up, worried she'd go stir-crazy cooped up at home.

Today, she happened to have a ribbon-cutting event at a newly built hotel in Capitolion. The place was a marvel-eighty-eight stories of sheer opulence, offering everything from leisure and entertainment to fine dining. It had already become famous for its restaurant, which boasted Capitolion's first taste of some of the most innovative cuisine in the city. Foodies flocked there for a taste and a selfie.

As soon as her duties wrapped up, Nanette invited Isadora to join her for a bite and a chat.

The timing was perfect-Isadora arrived just as the ceremony ended, and together they headed toward the hotel's bustling restaurant.

But as they made their way down a gleaming corridor, two towering Black bodyguards approached and blocked their path.

"Mrs. Fitzgerald, good afternoon. Our boss would like a word with you."

Nanette instantly stepped in front of Isadora, protective and wary. "Who's your boss? And why does he want to see Isadora?"

The guards, each nearly six and a half feet tall, barely glanced at Nanette. Their focus was on Isadora.

“Our boss is Mr. Fitzgerald's uncle. He's waiting for you in a private suite on the seventy-seventh floor. Mr. Fitzgerald is there as well, so you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Fitzgerald."

choice, Nanette and Isadora were "escorted" to the seventy-seventh

open the heavy, mahogany doors

room stood an oval poker table, the roulette wheel spinning in a blur. At the head of the table, a woman in a striking red

from the dealer, Farrar and Victor sat side by side-clear as day, this was a casino's private

moment Farrar spotted Isadora, he tossed his cards onto the table and let out a booming laugh. The scar running under his left eye twisted with his grin, giving him a

my guys spotted your little wife downstairs, so I thought-why not invite her up for a little

leather sofa, his gaze locked on her. Their eyes met his flashed with

voice rumbled out, low and displeased. "Why aren't you at home, resting? What are you doing

went silent. The onlookers exchanged glances; it

cherished

gaze cold and calculating as he glanced between Victor and

chimed in, her voice sweet and teasing. "Mr. Fitzgerald, you're so harsh. Mrs. Fitzgerald

devil-may-care

my temper for you

giggled, feigning outrage. "Oh,

watching Victor