Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 514

Eleanor hurried in, nearly breathless.

The moment she spotted Nanette, her voice trembled with worry. “How’s Isadora? Is she alright?”

Nanette’s eyes were red, heart aching at the memory of Isadora gritting her teeth against the pain. “They just took her into the delivery room.”

Eleanor’s gaze darted anxiously around the hospital corridors. “Where’s Victor? Isn’t he supposed to be here? She’s about to give birth, for heaven’s sake—why isn’t he here?”

Nanette clenched her jaw. “His phone’s off. I can’t reach him.”

With no other options, Eleanor clutched the silver cross at her neck and stepped aside. Hands clasped, she began to pray under her breath, “Please, keep Isadora and her baby safe.”

On the other side of the hospital, Finley had just arrived after hearing Isadora was in labor.

But as soon as Nanette saw him, all her pent-up frustration toward Victor spilled over. “Isadora’s about to give birth and Victor’s nowhere to be found! Men—honestly, you’re all the same.”

“Alright, alright, calm down. I’ll try calling Victor now,” Finley said, quickly pulling out his phone.

He dialed Victor’s number. The call rang out—cold, mechanical, with no answer.

Nanette nearly exploded with rage, her face flushed and her hands shaking. “If something happens to Isadora or the baby, Victor will regret it for the rest of his life!”

*

At the casino, Farrar’s face twisted into a scowl as he ended his call.

With a loud crash, he kicked the poker table, chips scattering everywhere.

He glared at the man across from him—a handsome, composed figure with an air of reserved power. “Well, Victor! I really underestimated you, didn’t I? You’ve ruined my business overseas, and now you’re trying to wipe me out here too. Damn you!”

Victor barely glanced up, his tone slow and deliberate. “Just taking a page from your own book, Farrar.”

Farrar’s eyes blazed with fury. Without warning, he lunged, swinging a fist at Victor’s face.

Victor didn’t flinch. He caught Farrar’s punch one-handed, his grip like iron.

Farrar tried to yank his hand free, but Victor held tight, and with a single flick, sent him stumbling backward.

One of Farrar’s bodyguards, a hulking man in a dark suit, immediately drew his gun and leveled it at Victor.

Screams erupted as panic swept through the room. Gamblers and dealers scrambled for cover—the croupier went pale and collapsed to the floor in terror.

Kemp jumped in front of Victor, his face tense. “Farrar, this is Capitolion, not some lawless back alley overseas!”

Farrar leaned forward on the table, his expression twisted, eyes bloodshot with hate. “I’ve lost everything—what do I have left to fear?”

Victor gave Kemp a subtle nod.

Kemp tossed a phone across the table, its screen playing a video.

On it, a middle-aged woman and a young boy, no older than seven, were tied to chairs, shouting desperately for help.

Victor’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Maybe they’d like to join you in this mess?”

Farrar’s eyes locked on the screen—on his wife and son. Hatred darkened his face. He ground out each word. “Victor. Let them go.”