Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 231

The Fitzgerald Group Private Hospital.

On the top floor, the surgical suite was under heavy guard, with a dozen security personnel standing sentinel.

The sharp tang of antiseptic mixed with the sterile chill of the corridor, creating a tension that hung in the air.

Just outside the operating room, two maids steadied Deanna as she waited, wringing her hands in anxious silence.

The doors swung open and shut, doctors hurrying in and out, faces grim and focused.

Deanna’s worry deepened with every passing minute, her brow furrowed in distress.

Suddenly, the sound of urgent footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder by the second.

Victor appeared—tall and composed in a crisp white shirt and dark tailored vest, a matching handkerchief peeking from his breast pocket. He carried his suit jacket over one arm, striding purposefully toward them. Raindrops dotted his shirt; he must have rushed straight from a business dinner.

Seeing him, Deanna’s relief was palpable. She hurried forward, her voice choked with emotion. “Oh, Victor, thank God you’re here.”

The family’s longtime housekeeper, Pattie, quickly explained, “Mr. Dorian Fitzgerald suddenly collapsed in his study this afternoon. The doctor says his blood pressure spiked and affected the arteries in his brain.”

Tears welled in Deanna’s eyes. “He already had brain surgery last year. I can’t believe this is happening again.”

Victor’s expression darkened with concern.

Dorian’s health had been deteriorating for years—partly due to age, partly because of chronic cerebrovascular issues.

Victor gently guided Deanna to a nearby chair, his voice steady. “We have the world’s top neurologist—Professor Lowell—here. Let’s not lose hope.”

Just then, the doors to the operating room swung open again.

A surgeon strode out, white coat crisp and bloodless. “Mr. Fitzgerald, you’ve arrived. Your grandfather’s heart rate is failing and his blood pressure is dangerously low. We’re running short on compatible blood. We need you to donate—now.”

Victor nodded, his dark eyes flicking to the maids, silently instructing them to keep a close watch on Deanna.

It was from Isadora: “It’s thundering. I’m scared.”

Deanna’s face twisted with disdain. “That schemer… It’s because of her that Victor sent Nannie back to Solstrand, and he nearly turned on me, too.”

She sneered. “Looks like my grandson cares about this woman more than I thought. When Dorian’s health improves, I’ll deal with her myself. For now, delete the message.”

Pattie obeyed at once, erasing every trace of the text.

The surgery lasted nearly two hours before it finally ended.

Dorian was wheeled out and transferred to the hospital’s VIP recovery suite—an opulent space with all the trappings of a luxury hotel: private living room, kitchen, and bedroom.

The attending physician approached Victor. “Sir, I’m afraid you’ll need to stay overnight. Your grandfather’s condition could relapse at any moment, and if it does, we may need another transfusion.”

Victor lounged wearily on the sofa, long legs stretched out. He was paler than usual from giving blood, but even so, his features remained strikingly handsome and composed.