Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 323

Terrell turned to Isadora and said, “Come on. Let me give you a ride home.”

But before she could respond, Victor strolled forward, his steps lazy but his gaze sharp and intent on Isadora. In a casual, almost dismissive tone, he offered, “Need a lift?”

Suddenly, the two tall, imposing men were standing right in front of her, blocking her way.

Isadora was at a loss for words.

The moment Terrell saw Victor, he immediately recognized him as the man from the Verdant Pavilion restroom corridor that night. It was him again. And if he had to guess, Victor didn’t seem too fond of him.

Terrell managed a polite smile and nodded. “Thank you for helping Isadora earlier.”

Victor scoffed silently. Acting like the man of the house, huh?

He smirked, his deep voice carrying a hint of mischief. “Don’t mention it. After all, my relationship with Isadora is… a little different.”

Isadora’s cheeks flushed. “There’s nothing between us,” she interjected quickly, distancing herself from him. Then she turned to Terrell. “Let’s go.”

As Isadora moved toward Terrell, Victor’s smile faded and his eyes narrowed.

He called out, voice low and brazen, “Should I tell him just how… complicated things really are between us?”

Victor had never cared for rules—arrogant, unruly, and impossible to rein in. If he was in a bad mood, not even the king himself could make him behave.

Isadora’s heart skipped a beat; she was terrified he’d say something outrageous in a place like this.

She bit her lip, hesitated, then turned apologetically to Terrell. “Mr. Fawcett, something’s come up. Why don’t you head home first?”

Terrell looked at her for a few seconds, sensing she was in a tough spot. He didn’t press her. “All right. Just text me when you get home.”

Once Terrell had left, Isadora didn’t spare Victor a glance. She hurried off, hoping he’d get the message.

Victor, however, followed at a leisurely pace, watching her pick up speed as if she were being chased by a wild animal.

Victor had a driver tonight, as usual for business events.

Isadora knew his routine well enough: whenever he attended formal gatherings, he preferred to let someone else drive.

She climbed into the car and plastered herself against the door, shutting her eyes as if to say, “I’m going to sleep. Don’t bother me.”

Victor couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

The driver started the engine and asked, “Where to, sir?”

“Summit Crest Estates—”

“18 Serenity Street!” Isadora blurted out, her eyes snapping open.

That was the address for Vaughan Manor.