Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 163

After Victor finished speaking, he leaned in, pressing Isadora down beneath him. His lips found the delicate curve of her neck, grazing and teasing her skin with slow, lingering kisses.

Isadora’s hands clenched tightly, her breath growing heavier by the second.

Victor’s mouth traced a path upward from her throat, finally pausing at the soft lobe of her ear.

A feverish heat swept through Isadora, setting every nerve ending ablaze; shivers raced through her veins, straight to her heart. Her limbs felt weak, but she bit down on her lip, determined not to make a sound.

Victor eventually pulled back, bracing himself on one arm at the edge of the bed. His gaze was cool and piercing, as if he could see straight through her.

His voice was low and husky, tinged with an unreadable edge. “With that look on your face, I almost feel like I’m forcing you.”

For a long, charged moment, Victor’s desire slowly faded from his eyes. He straightened, rising from the bed in one fluid motion.

He stood over her, bare-chested, with his dress pants hanging loosely from his hips. From above, his expression was impossible to read.

As his strong presence withdrew, Isadora’s heart gradually steadied. She looked up, only to be caught off guard by Victor’s dangerously cold stare.

Isadora sat up as well, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think we could both use some personal space, now and then.”

Victor stared at her in silence, his eyes dark, like leaves swirling after a winter storm.

Suddenly, the room felt stifling, the stark white light glaring and oppressive.

Victor’s lips twisted into a cold, humorless smile. “Fine.”

He pulled on his shirt, took a long stride toward the door, and left without another word.

She heard the door close.

Isadora wrapped her arms around her knees, sitting motionless on the bed.

*

For days, Victor didn’t call or text her.

Isadora stayed home, pouring herself into her art—sketching out one interior design after another as inspiration struck.

One afternoon, her phone rang in the living room.

She answered.

“Darling! The opening for M Boutique is tonight—I’m the face of the brand this year. I saw your name on the guest list. Are you coming?”

It was Nanette. Ever since she’d released that recording online, the truth had come out—everyone finally realized Halley had been the one cheating.

The whole narrative flipped in an instant. Nanette, once painted as the villain, was vindicated and became a public favorite overnight.