Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 427

Victor's eyes were dark and unreadable—a pair of sharp, obsidian irises that lingered on Isadora's radiant face, studying her every delicate feature with unwavering intensity.

For a long moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

Isadora's heart fluttered anxiously in her chest. She nervously twisted her fingers, unsure what to expect.

Then, Victor spoke—each word slow and deliberate, as if sealing a vow: "I could never be angry with you. Not ever."

His tone was so sincere, so solemn, that it sounded like a promise spoken beneath stained glass.

Isadora felt her eyes sting with sudden emotion. She quickly pressed her forehead to Victor's chest, hiding her face so he wouldn't see the tears brimming in her eyes.

Against her ear, his steady heartbeat pulsed strong and unwavering, the sound echoing all the way to her own chest—a deep, grounding rhythm that made her feel both safe and weak at the knees.

After a while, Isadora finally managed to collect herself. Her voice was thick with emotion as she sniffled, "I don't even have a dress for the party tonight."

Victor had expected her to say something sweet, maybe even a little grateful for his words. He hadn't anticipated such an abrupt shift to party attire.

This woman… truly had a knack for spoiling the mood.

Still, she was his wife, and that meant she deserved to be indulged.

Victor's low voice was tinged with a trace of laughter. "Just wait. Tonight, you'll be the most beautiful woman in the room."

And with those words, Isadora was once again reminded of just how dazzling the power of wealth could be.

The room was aglow with bright lights, shining down on polished hardwood floors and casting a golden sheen over the lavish space. Servants moved carefully, maneuvering rows of garment racks laden with sumptuous evening gowns—each one more breathtaking than the last.

Silk, lace, and chiffon shimmered beneath the chandeliers, their textures and colors catching the light in a dazzling display of luxury and beauty. Off to the side, a collection of priceless jewelry sparkled—diamond necklaces glinting with icy fire, pearl earrings radiating a gentle luster, ruby rings glowing like tiny embers.

It was as if the entire room had transformed into a private treasure trove.

Three statuesque models took turns slipping into bespoke designer gowns, strutting a slow circle before Isadora, displaying each piece for her consideration.

Victor lounged back on the sofa, one arm draped along the backrest, the other wrapped comfortably around Isadora's waist. He raised an eyebrow, a lazy smirk on his lips. "Go on. Take your pick."

The servants stiffened, feeling the icy edge in their employer's stare. They all wondered: the dress was beautiful—so why did he look as if he could murder someone?

Isadora could see Victor was practically suffocating from holding back his irritation. She grinned mischievously. "Guess I'll go try it on, then."

"Fine," he mumbled, barely disguising his displeasure.

He was clearly dying inside, yet still agreed to let her try it on.

Watching Victor squirm, Isadora burst out laughing, her voice bright and sweet with amusement. "Relax, I was joking. This really isn't my style."

Relief washed over Victor's face as he exhaled.

If Isadora actually wore that dress out tonight, he'd be hard-pressed not to claw out every man's eyes.

Turning to him, Isadora's eyes sparkled as she squeezed Victor's warm, steady hand, her voice soft and full of affection.