Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 407

The moment those words left his lips, every head in the studio turned.

All eyes landed on a strikingly handsome man, dressed in a charcoal-gray suit with a dark tie—formal, elegant, and effortlessly commanding. On anyone else, the look might have seemed stiff, but on him, it radiated casual confidence and unmistakable authority.

From the instant he walked in, every gesture drew the room's attention. Even the cameras and spotlights seemed to chase after him, leaving everyone else in the audience to fade into the background.

There was something about him—an air of superiority—that made it clear to everyone: this man wasn't ordinary.

And indeed, he wasn't.

Onstage, the host Nicol's earpiece crackled with a sudden message from the producers.

"Victor Fitzgerald is here! Don't waste this chance!"

Nicol, known as the top interviewer in the business, actually shivered at the news. He whispered urgently into his mic, "Wait—THE Victor Fitzgerald? Heir to the Fitzgerald Group? What on earth is he doing here?"

"Apparently, he's here for Isadora. Word is, it's a classic love triangle. If you play your cards right, Nicol, your ratings are going to skyrocket."

Excitement washed over Nicol. He couldn't hide the thrill in his voice as he addressed the crowd.

"Wow! What a treat for our ‘Pulse News' audience tonight! Please join me in welcoming Mr. Victor Fitzgerald!"

The revelation sent a jolt through the studio. The audience erupted in shouts and applause as they realized the city's most eligible billionaire was in the room.

Even the live broadcast viewership soared—from nine million to thirty million in a matter of seconds.

On stage, Isadora caught sight of Victor and froze, momentarily stunned. She had no idea why he was here—or why he'd chosen to make such an entrance.

Instead of taking the open seat beside Terrell, he sat down right next to Isadora, his arm casually draped across the back of the couch behind her. His posture was relaxed, legs crossed, utterly at ease.

From every angle—whether from the audience or the cameras—it looked as if he was wrapping Isadora protectively in his embrace.

Victor glanced at her, his dark eyes lingering. Under the lights, her lashes looked impossibly long, her gaze lowered in thought.

He leaned in, his lips close to her ear, his voice low and intimate.

"Why didn't you tell me about the interview today, hmm?"

Suddenly, the scent of cedar and pine enveloped her—his scent—making her cheeks flush.

Isadora wasn't used to this. She wasn't a celebrity, and she certainly wasn't comfortable being the center of attention under the glare of so many cameras.