Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 34

Isadora eyed Pearl, watching her strut around with her nose in the air.

She didn’t look like she was lying.

Pearl adored her status as the Vaughan family’s darling too much. She was obsessed with monopolizing Richard and Eleanor’s affection—there was no way she would stage her own kidnapping just to get their attention.

Suddenly, with a soft chime, the elevator doors slid open.

A handful of coworkers stepped out.

The sight of Pearl and Isadora at the elevator—one looking smug, the other stormy—made them all instinctively avert their gazes and hurry away, desperate not to get caught in the crossfire.

Isadora barely lifted her eyelids, then subtly swung her bent arm forward.

One of the male coworkers was holding a steaming cup of coffee. When Isadora’s arm suddenly jutted out, he was caught off guard—the cup tilted, and coffee sloshed forward.

It spilled straight down the front of Pearl, who was standing right in front of him.

Pearl’s magenta Chanel suit was now drenched in a massive, muddy-brown stain. The expensive outfit looked like it had been splattered with thick oil paint.

Pearl shrieked, frantically grabbing tissues to dab at her ruined skirt.

“What is wrong with you? Do you know who I am? Can’t you watch where you’re going? If you can’t even handle a cup of coffee, I’ll have my father fire you!”

The poor guy was bewildered, not sure how the accident even happened. He stammered, “I’m so sorry, Miss Vaughan, I just slipped.”

Isadora let out a sharp laugh.

“He didn’t slip—he just didn’t see the pest in front of him. Relax, you’re off the hook. Go on, get out of here.”

The coworker didn’t need telling twice; he bolted.

Within seconds, the elevator lobby was empty save for Isadora and Pearl.

Pearl glared at her, jaw clenched.

“Alright, Isadora. I get it. You set this up. You made him spill coffee on me on purpose.”

A smirk curled at Isadora’s lips.

Did Pearl really think Isadora was still the pushover she used to be?

If Pearl wanted to play games, Isadora was more than happy to oblige.

She strode over, grabbed the grimy cup—with its cloudy lid, dust, and spiderwebs—and, in one swift motion, hurled its rancid contents right at Pearl’s face.

Pearl didn’t even have time to shield herself. The sour milk tea splattered over her hair, face, and neck.

“Aaaaah!”

Her shrill scream echoed through the entire floor.

Now, Pearl’s outfit was ruined, her perfectly styled hair and flawless makeup dripping with foul-smelling milk. The stench was overpowering.

Isadora barely glanced her way. She wiped her hands, unconcerned, and pushed open the stairwell door, walking out without a backward look.

Pearl’s eyes burned red with rage. Hands shaking, she lunged after Isadora, ready to tear her apart.