Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

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."

With little choice, Nanette and Isadora were "escorted" to the seventy-seventh floor.

The guards pushed open the heavy, mahogany doors of the suite.

A wave of whiskey and cigar smoke hit them as soon as they stepped inside. In the center of the lavish 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 cocktail dress dealt cards, her movements sleek and practiced. A few men in sharp suits stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes watchful.

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

The 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 menacing edge.

"Victor, my guys spotted your little wife downstairs, so I thought-why not invite her up for a little fun? You're not going to get stingy on us, are you?"

Isadora stepped inside and immediately saw Victor lounging on the black leather sofa, his gaze locked on her. Their eyes met his flashed with surprise, then darkened into a deep, angry frown.

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

The room went silent. The onlookers exchanged glances; it seemed Mrs.

Fitzgerald wasn't as cherished as rumors suggested.

Farrar's eyes narrowed, his gaze cold and calculating as he glanced between Victor and Isadora, a sly, dangerous smile curling his lips.

The dealer chimed in, her voice sweet and teasing. "Mr. Fitzgerald, you're so harsh. Mrs. Fitzgerald looks like she's expecting-you should be gentle with her."

Victor's lips curled in a lazy, devil-may-care smirk. "Is that so? Maybe I should

save my temper for you instead."

The dealer giggled, feigning outrage. "Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald, you're terrible."

Nanette, watching Victor flirt with

another woman right in front of

Isadora, could hardly contain her

anger "Victor, how can you treat Isadora like this? She's pregnant, for God's sake!"

Isadora gently took Nanette's hand, glancing at Victor. His expression was impossible to read.

Isadora bit her lip. "Fine. I'll go home then."

Just as she turned to leave, Farrar rose from the sofa, picked up a glass of bourbon, and sauntered over, blocking her path. His smile was anything but friendly.noveldrama

"Leaving so soon, niece-in-law? You come all this way and don't even offer your uncle a drink? That's not very polite, is it?"

He held the glass out to her. "I'm a stickler for manners. Have a drink with me and I'll have someone drive you home."

Isadora didn't take the glass.

Farrar's eyes went cold and sharp, his voice dropping to a chilling, menacing whisper.