Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 442

The man's voice was cold as ice, each word sending chills down everyone's spine.

Presley and Colby, standing off to the side, were drenched in cold sweat.

If they couldn't find Mrs. Fitzgerald tonight, it wasn't just the Capitolion North District development contract that would be in jeopardy—there was a real chance the entire Walsh family would be in serious trouble.

Presley spun around, snapping at the butler, "Did you even search properly?"

Victor's icy presence had the butler shaking so badly he could barely speak. "We—we've checked the ballroom, but the bedrooms upstairs… we haven't looked yet…"

Victor had no patience left. He grabbed his phone and dialed.

Moments later, the heavy, urgent thud of footsteps echoed through the mansion.

At the front door, Kemp charged in, leading a squad of burly, well-trained bodyguards.

The elegant strains of piano music screeched to a halt.

Dancers froze mid-twirl on the ballroom floor. Under the bright chandelier light, the entire party seemed to stop—like someone had hit pause on reality.

Within seconds, the bodyguards had surrounded the entire first floor, sealing off every exit.

A suffocating tension pressed down on everyone in the mansion.

The guests were all people of status and influence, but none of them had any idea what was happening.

Seeing the intimidating line of bodyguards, some thought it was a kidnapping. Panic swept the room; terrified screams erupted everywhere.

Kemp strode in, stone-faced, and gave a single order: "Search the house."

With that, dozens of bodyguards fanned out, methodically sweeping the entire mansion.

The pounding of footsteps echoed through the halls like a relentless, deadly chant. No one dared to move.

Upstairs, Meade had just lain down to rest but was jolted awake by the commotion. With the help of a servant, he made his shaky way down the grand staircase.

Olivia, Andrina, and the rest of the family were also herded downstairs by the guards.

In a matter of minutes, every guest who'd come to celebrate the Walsh patriarch's 85th birthday was corralled into the main hall, not allowed to leave.

Meade looked out over what should have been his birthday celebration, now transformed into a hostage scene. His face was ashen, his hands trembling as he leaned heavily on his cane. "What on earth is going on here?"

Presley and Colby were so rattled by Victor's display of force that they couldn't even speak. They just shot nervous glances at the imposing man whose icy demeanor filled the room.