Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

The Ferrari glided smoothly into the Laurel Heights neighborhood.

Isadora was no stranger to this place.

Capitolion had recently developed this area—a sprawling new community

featuring both elegant villas inspired by classic European architecture and modern high-rise apartments with sweeping views.

Everything here was designed for comfort and luxury: a private golf course, a helipad, and every imaginable amenity.

The location was unbeatable, right in the heart of the city, yet surrounded by dense woods—a tranquil oasis tucked away from the urban rush.

Residents here were, without exception, wealthy or well-connected.

The Ferrari finally came to a stop in front of a three-story white villa.

From the drive, the house looked inviting-lush blooms filled the garden, and the white façade stood out, encircled by flowers, exuding warmth and welcome. Isadora glanced around, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Where are we?"

Victor smiled, the corners of his mouth quirking up. "Our new home."

He took her hand and led her along the gravel path, then opened the front door.

The foyer opened directly into a spacious hall, wrapped with floor-to-ceiling windows. Sunlight poured in, illuminating the understated yet luxurious décor. A Steinway grand piano stood elegantly in one corner, while outside, the sparkling blue of the pool danced in the afternoon light.

Isadora took it all in, then wandered upstairs.

She opened a door and stepped inside.

The room was awash in shades of pink, with a tiny wardrobe of pink-and-white stocked with baby clothes. Plush toys and whimsical decorations filled the space, making it both adorable and welcoming.

Isadora grinned. "How do you know it won't be a boy?"

Victor raised an eyebrow, sauntered down the hall, and opened the door to the next room, nodding for her to follow.noveldrama

She stepped in and found a nursery almost identical to the first, but decked out in blue.

She couldn't help but be surprised at his attention to detail.

Victor's voice was low and warm, laced with a lazy sort of charm. “If it's a little princess, she'll stay in the pink room. If it's a rascal, he gets the blue one."

Isadora blinked, feigning seriousness. "So what happens to the extra room?"

Victor leaned down, his gaze smoldering as he fixed his eyes on her profile. His words were soft, tempting. "Well, give it three years. We'll need another nursery, don't you think?"

She shot him a playful glare. "You wish."

Victor only grinned at the blush creeping up her cheeks. He slipped his arms around her, pulling her close His eyes, deep and bright, locked onto hers. "What's with the social media post, hmm?"

Isadora's gaze dropped to his shirt as her slender fingers idly played with his tie.

Her voice was soft and sweet. "You posted first."

Victor's lips curled into a slow smile. "Did I?"

It was a simple enough question, but the teasing lilt in his voice sent a pleasant shiver through her.

Then, from above her, his voice dropped to a husky murmur that made her heart flutter. "Now everyone knows we're married."

Isadora shot him a look. "Didn't everyone know already?"

"It's not the same," he replied.

"What's different?"

Victor bent his head, gently nipping her earlobe, his warm breath sending another shiver down her spine. "This time, I'm officially your husband. You're not allowed to run off and leave me behind anymore."

And just like that, they moved into the villa at Laurel Heights.

Isadora quickly grew fond of the garden, where roses, peonies, lavender, lilies, sunflowers, and countless other flowers she couldn't even name bloomed year- round.

Of course, she knew modern technology played a part in keeping everything so lush.

But she didn't care—every time she saw the riot of color and life in their garden, she felt a rush of happiness.

In her spare moments, she even joined the housekeeper in pruning the flowers and tending to the plants.

Then, one day, Isadora discovered something that surprised her: Victor could play the piano.

He sat at the Steinway, his posture regal and composed, almost like a prince out of a storybook. His long graceful fingers danced across the keys, and the soaring melody he played filled the sunlit room, @ising and falling with effortless elegance.