Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Rowena was quickly sent off to Africa, forced into sex work as a foreign aid "bride."

Word had it that once she arrived, she simply couldn't bear the humiliation. Her dignity was shattered, her spirit trampled into the dirt, day after day forced to endure several men. She tried desperately to escape, but every attempt ended with her being dragged back.

The last time they caught her, she didn't survive. They beat her to death.

Keeley-Rowena's mother-collapsed from the shock when she learned what had happened to her daughter.

All this, Nanette and Isadora only found out much later.

When Isadora heard the news, she barely reacted.

Whatever shred of sympathy she might have once had for Rowena had vanished the moment Rowena poisoned Pudding to death.

After some time recovering, Isadora was finally allowed to leave the hospital.

Victor appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, pushing a wheelchair.

He stood tall and relaxed behind it, hands resting casually on the handles, his expression perfectly at ease.

Isadora blinked at the sight.

Wasn't this a little much?

She'd only been hospitalized because she'd gotten overexcited and had a scare with her pregnancy, not because she couldn't walk at all.

Besides, after her stay in the hospital, she was feeling completely fine.

By now, she was almost six months along. Her belly was noticeably round, and although her figure was still slender, even a loose black dress couldn't hide her pregnancy anymore.

The scare had rattled her, and she often woke in the middle of the night— sometimes with a sudden cramp in her leg, sometimes with her stomach twitching violently.

No matter the hour, the moment she startled awake, Victor would snap to attention beside her. Gone was his usual calm, replaced by frantic worry and clumsy hands.

It was always Isadora who reached for his hand to reassure him. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry."

Only then would he calm down, his expression settling back into composure.

Lately, Isadora had come to understand-she was no longer living just for herself. Her outlook was changing, slowly but surely.

She had a responsibility now, to her child and to Victor.

Sliding off the hospital bed, she pointed at the wheelchair with a hint of disdain. "I don't need that."

Victor let go of the handles, stepped forward, and wrapped his arm gently around her waist, his voice soft and careful. "The doctor said you shouldn't walk too much. You'll get tired."

But when she kept frowning, Victor just bent down, slipped an arm under her knees, and effortlessly lifted her up. "How about I carry you out instead?"

Isadora's cheeks flushed. "That's even more embarrassing!"

Victor's eyes glinted with amusement. "And why is it weird for a man to carry his own wife?"

She couldn't win against him-so she gave in and let him have his way.

And so, Isadora was carried out of her hospital room, head tucked against Victor's chest like an ostrich, pretending no one else existed.

Down the hallway, Nanette and Finley appeared.

Nanette, who'd come to help with Isadora's discharge, stopped short when she saw them. She hovered awkwardly, unsure whether to step forward or step aside.

Finley, trailing behind, smirked. "What's wrong? Jealous? If you want, I can carry you too."

Nanette shot him a glare. "Carry yourself. I'm not the one who's pregnant." "Maybe if you tried it, I'd be an even more devoted husband than Victor." "In your dreams," Nanette shot back.

Victor settled Isadora gently into the front seat of the car. He closed the door, strode around the hood, and slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine with an easy confidence.

The sleek black Ferrari glidednoveldrama

smoothly down the sunlit road.

Goldendight spilled across the world

outside, and the rows of pine trees

lining the street cast shifting

shadows across the window.

Isadora glanced at Victor as he drove-one hand on the steering wheel, the other propped

nonchalantly on the door. He wore a crisp,Custom-made white shirt open at the collar, no tie. Dappled sunlight flickered over the sharp lines of his profile, softening his jaw and making him look impossibly handsome.