From the moment Nanette stepped into the Fitzgerald Group, she was awestruck by the sheer opulence of the lobby. The place glittered with gold and marble, so grand it nearly took her breath away.
Everyone in the building seemed to know Isadora. Employees greeted her with respectful nods and kept their voices low as she passed. With Nanette in tow, they breezed through security and took the private elevator straight to the top floor—the one reserved for the CEO himself.
Isadora hesitated, glancing at Nanette. The whole idea of “dropping by” unexpectedly felt awkward. “Maybe we should head back and come another time,” she suggested.
But Nanette was far too excited for that. She tugged Isadora out of the elevator. “We’re already here! Just think of it as surprising Victor. Besides, I’ve always been curious what a billionaire’s office looks like.”
At the executive floor, the entire secretarial staff stood at attention the moment Isadora appeared, greeting her in unison: “Good morning, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”
Isadora smiled and waved them off. “Please, don’t mind us—get back to work.”
The two women made their way to the CEO’s office. Just as Isadora raised her hand to knock, voices drifted through the heavy door.
“My dear nephew, I hear you’ve given that woman twenty percent of the Fitzgerald Group’s shares. She must mean a great deal to you, hmm?”
A cold, humorless laugh followed.
Victor’s reply was low and unreadable, edged with sarcasm. “Women are all the same. Her only purpose is to bear an heir for the Fitzgerald family. Once she’s done that, she won’t matter anymore.”
The uncle chuckled darkly. “Well said, Victor. You have to keep your eyes on the bigger picture, not get distracted by sentiment. Once my grandnephew is born, I’ll be sure to send a generous gift.”
Outside, Isadora’s hand slowly fell to her side.
Nanette, standing beside her, stared at the door in shock. Her whole body shook with anger as she tried to steady her breathing, ready to barge in.
But Isadora caught her arm, her grip surprisingly firm.
“Isadora, let me go!” Nanette’s voice trembled with fury. “Did you hear what Victor just said? What does he mean, ‘her only purpose’? I’m going in there to get some answers!”
Back home, Isadora drifted to the grand piano in the living room. She stood before it, her slender fingers brushing the black and white keys. A discordant, halting melody rang out—notes scattered, uncertain.
Nanette watched her anxiously, afraid Isadora might do something rash. But Isadora simply stared at the keys, her expression unreadable, her composure almost unnaturally calm.
Nanette hesitated before speaking. “Isadora, maybe Victor has his reasons. Let’s wait until he gets home and talk things through. You’re almost due—you can’t let this upset you, not for the baby’s sake.”
She wanted to say more, but glanced at Isadora’s rounded belly and thought better of it.
Isadora withdrew her hands from the piano. “I know,” she replied quietly.
At that moment, a housekeeper emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of nourishing soup. “Ma’am, you haven’t touched your soup today.”
Isadora shook her head. “Just leave it, thank you. I’m not hungry.”
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)