Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 195

Nannie stepped forward and set her insulated thermos down on the marble dining table. Her sharp eyes swept over Isadora, who had just emerged from the bedroom.

Isadora’s long, softly curled hair spilled down her back, framing a radiant, fair face. Her arched brows and luminous hazel eyes gave her an unforgettable beauty—delicate features, impossible to ignore.

Today, she wore a nude silk blouse tucked into fitted jeans, the slim waist accentuating her polished, confident aura.

Nannie prided herself on being attractive, but the woman before her possessed a lively, pure charm that went beyond simple beauty.

This must be the “girlfriend” Victor had mentioned—the one who even fussed about sharing a private jet with her.

The thought stung. No wonder Mrs. Fitzgerald felt threatened, wanting to use Nannie as a pawn to push this woman out.

And truth be told, Nannie was more than willing to play the part. In her eyes, Victor was unique, untouchable, far above anyone else’s reach.

She feigned surprise, her voice light and sweet as she spoke. “And who might you be? What are you doing in Victor’s home?”

Something about Nannie’s crisp, almost syrupy tone triggered a sense of déjà vu in Isadora, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Isadora’s guard went up. “If you’re wondering why I’m here, maybe you should ask Victor.”

Nannie smiled, undeterred. “Oh, I had no idea someone else was here. I only stopped by to drop off some homemade nourishing soup for Victor.”

Isadora remained wary. “And how exactly do you know him?”

In all her time with Victor, Isadora hadn’t seen any other woman around him. Could this be the infamous fiancée from all those Fitzgerald family rumors?

Nannie offered an innocent smile. “I’ve grown up with the Fitzgerald family—Victor and I are childhood friends. We’re… very close.”

A faint, mocking smile curled on Nannie’s lips. Not so impressive after all.

*

Across town, a Rolls-Royce glided through the dazzling city streets, passing block after block in silent luxury.

In the front, the driver kept his eyes on the road while Kemp, seated beside him, gave a detailed report.

In the back, Victor read through a file, his long, elegant fingers flipping the pages, his gaze unreadable.

The car finally pulled up in front of a two-story cottage.