Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 86

Victor swirled the whiskey in his glass, his gaze distant and bored as Dailey rambled on about his latest big idea—a project pitched with all the subtlety of fireworks. Victor didn’t nod. He didn’t shake his head. He just listened, noncommittal.

The Brooks family had started out in tech three generations ago, their name once spoken in the same breath as the Fitzgeralds. But the newer Brooks heirs? Not a business brain among them. They’d managed to squander fortunes, one disaster after another.

Victor lounged deeper into the leather sofa, sipping his drink, radiating indifference. As he absentmindedly checked his phone, a new message from Finley popped up—a photo.

The image made Victor’s blood run cold. There, in a flawless white wedding dress, stood a woman he recognized instantly.

His eyes, usually a cool gray, turned glacial—hard and sharp as an Arctic winter. Fury radiated from him in waves. He zoomed in, staring at the screen as if he could burn through it.

There was no mistaking her. Isadora.

That liar.

She’d told him it was just a one-night stand, that things with Magnus were over. But now here she was, dressed for a wedding. Who was she marrying? Magnus?

Victor’s jaw clenched as he exited the photo app and immediately called Isadora.

No answer.

His lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Anxiety and dread twisted in his chest.

He tried her number. Still nothing.

A bitter laugh escaped him, but there was no humor in his eyes—only the brewing storm of a man about to snap. He gripped his phone tightly, dialing Finley.

“Where is she?” he demanded when Finley picked up.

Finley’s voice came back teasing, “Whoa, Prince. Who do you mean?”

Victor’s tone dropped, ice-cold. “Finley, do you want your hospital to go out of business?”

The threat was so sharp Finley nearly slammed on his brakes, momentarily forgetting he was driving. He’d only meant to mess with Victor, to see if he could rile the famously unflappable heir. He hadn’t expected this reaction—Victor was ready to bring down his entire hospital?

Finley knew Victor’s reputation—ruthless, dangerous when provoked. Pushing it further would be suicide.

Victor was still seething from what he’d seen on his phone, ready to walk out—until Patricia blocked his path.

“Do you need something?” His voice was icily polite.

Patricia smiled, her tone as delicate as a songbird’s. “We met when we were kids, remember? I just went shopping with Mrs. Fitzgerald last week—she likes me a lot.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald wasn’t Victor’s birth mother, but she’d raised him.

Victor stood, shooting Patricia a glacial look. “If she likes you, that’s her business. It has nothing to do with me.”

He turned to go, having no patience for her games.

Panicking, Patricia reached out, trying to grab his hand. “Victor, don’t go! I haven’t had a chance to talk to you yet—”

Victor recoiled, shaking her off as if her touch burned. “Get out of my way.”