Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 208

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Magnus’s voice trembled. “She sent you all those horrible messages. If you’d told me, I never would have—”

“Would you have believed me?” Isadora cut him off, her tone cool.

Magnus fell silent, the words dying on his lips.

The truth was, Isadora hadn’t stayed silent before. But back then, he’d dismissed her words as nothing more than jealousy and insecurity.

“I know there’s nothing I can say or do now to make it right,” Magnus said quietly, “but Isadora, I still want to apologize.”

“I hear you,” she replied, her voice steady. “But that doesn’t mean I have to forgive you.”

A dull thud echoed through the hallway.

Magnus’s face went ashen. Slowly, he bent one knee, then the other, finally kneeling before her.

From around the corner, Wendy gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, barely stifling the sound.

So Isadora was the fiancée? Then what was all that nonsense she’d been spouting earlier? The rumors weren’t adding up at all. By the look of it, Mr. Wainwright was still very much in love with Isadora.

Isadora froze, momentarily taken aback.

“Magnus, what are you doing?” she asked.

He looked up at her, all pride stripped away, desperation in his eyes.

“I know my arrogance hurt you. I don’t expect you to truly forgive me. Isadora, I’m sorry—please, just give me one chance to make things right.”

“Isadora, I still love you.”

She frowned, her expression unreadable.

“Your love doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

“But as long as you once loved me, I can’t let go.”

Isadora rolled her eyes. “Then go ahead and kneel by yourself.”

She approached, and the driver stepped out to open the back door with practiced grace.

Once she climbed in, the driver closed the door behind her and retreated to a discreet distance.

Inside, Victor lounged in the back seat, his long fingers holding a cigarette. A cloud of smoke curled around his striking features, half-obscuring his face in the dim light.

The sharp scent of tobacco filled the car, making Isadora cough.

After a moment, Victor flicked his eyes downward, stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, and silence hung between them, thick and heavy.

Then, Victor’s lips twisted into a smirk, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why aren’t you upstairs, finishing what you started? Why come after me?”

Isadora started to reply, to explain. But his biting tone silenced her.

Victor saw the look on her face, and a surge of anger rose within him.

He’d come today to surprise her on her first day at the new job—only to stumble upon her ex, down on his knees, begging for another chance. Some surprise, indeed.