Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 281

Magnus’s car was parked not far away.

He’d heard Isadora’s voice at the meeting earlier that day, and an impulse he couldn’t explain had drawn him to The Vaughan Group’s headquarters. He hadn’t intended to approach her—just to be nearby, to catch a glimpse of her from a safe distance.

He watched as Isadora walked out of the parking garage, her silhouette as slender and graceful as ever. Magnus’s dark eyes locked onto her, barely daring to blink.

Suddenly, the entire parking lot was plunged into darkness.

A split second later, Isadora’s scream sliced through the night.

Magnus flung open his door and leapt out, sprinting toward the spot where he’d last seen her, chasing the faint outline of her shadow.

“Isadora? Isadora, are you alright?”

Damn it!

Suddenly, the lights flickered back on.

Security guards burst out of the building, confusion and worry on their faces.

“What happened? Someone cut the main power!”

“I just fixed it—it should be fine now. Hurry up and check if anything’s wrong.”

Magnus scanned the area: Isadora’s car was still there, but she was gone.

Then he spotted her phone lying abandoned on the asphalt.

A jolt of fear shot through him.

Could this be Elise Harrison’s doing? Did she have accomplices?

No, that was impossible—Elise was locked up.

Magnus’s heart pounded as he broke into a run, shouting, “Someone’s missing! Hurry, help me look for her!”

“Isadora! Isadora! Where are you?”

He tore through the parking lot like a madman, searching every shadow, but found no sign of her.

The security guards seemed frozen in confusion until Magnus rounded on them, fury in his voice. “Don’t just stand there! Your President Vaughan is missing!”

The words finally snapped them into action—some rushed to check the security cameras, others fanned out to search the premises.

***

Isadora’s scalp burned as Carla pulled harder. She glared back, defiant. “Let go of me. You’re not my mother.”

She shouted as loudly as she could, hoping someone would hear. “Help! Somebody, please! Help me!”

Carla just laughed—a harsh, chilling sound that made Isadora’s skin crawl.

“I am your mother. If you don’t listen, you need to be taught a lesson. Why are you calling for help?”

Carla reached into her coat and pulled out a large case. When she opened it, Isadora’s blood ran cold: inside, rows and rows of gleaming silver needles.

A wave of childhood memories crashed over her—Carla, angry, pinning her down, sticking those needles deep into her arms and legs whenever she misbehaved.

Isadora thrashed against her restraints, her voice raw with panic. “Let me go! You’re insane!”

But her wrists were bound, and Carla still had a fistful of her hair.

The next moment, Carla drove a needle—ten centimeters long—into Isadora’s arm.

The searing pain nearly made her black out.

With a desperate cry, Isadora lashed out with her foot, kicking Carla as hard as she could.