Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 242

Wendy finally felt vindicated as she saw the results—her earlier frustration melted away into pure relief.

Her intuition had been spot on.

Maybe last time, when the company’s golden boy helped her and Isadora avoid that round of drinks, it could’ve been a coincidence.

But today? Today’s decision was a clear, deliberate act of favoritism.

Wendy glanced at Isadora, her eyes sparkling with envy and admiration.

I wish I had a prince charming looking out for me, too...

“Isadora, Rowena—we won! We actually did it!”

Wendy couldn’t hold back her excitement. “See? I told you there was foul play, but no one believed me! Now look—the truth is out. Seafarer Designs really is the best!”

Abbott’s expression darkened, his lips curving into a cold, bitter smile.

So what if they’d won this round? He still had one last card to play.

His gaze darted menacingly toward Rowena, making his intentions clear.

Meanwhile, everyone in the conference room who’d just been mocking Seafarer Designs was suddenly eating their words.

After the meeting adjourned, Jonathan rushed over to Victor, desperate to explain himself.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, I swear I had no idea Carlson was up to something. Our group has been absolutely committed to a fair, transparent selection process. There’s been no personal agenda—none at all...”

Victor cut him off with an icy impatience, his voice heavy with authority. “Bring him here.”

Within seconds, Carlson was ushered back in to stand before Victor.

Carlson’s legs trembled uncontrollably, his head bowed so low it nearly touched his chest, unable to meet the intimidating man’s eyes.

Victor’s voice sliced through the silence, cold and razor-sharp. “Subjectivity, was it?”

Out in the hallway, Abbott was getting angrier with every step. Halfway down the corridor, he stopped abruptly.

Clenching his fists, eyes wild with frustration, he smashed his knuckles into the wall.

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

His assistant, trailing behind, gulped nervously and kept a safe distance, worried Abbott might turn that fury on him instead.

As Victor passed down the corridor, his casual gaze landed on Abbott and the dent he’d left in the wall.

Victor stopped, towering over Abbott, a cold, mocking smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “Your mother’s not here, Abbott. No need to show off your filial devotion to the wall.”

Abbott jolted at the sound of Victor’s voice, suddenly realizing he’d been caught losing his composure. He quickly dropped his hand.

“Mr. Fitzgerald... I, uh, I just got carried away. That’s all, really—don’t read too much into it.”