Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

The tension inside the car was suffocating. The driver, desperate to escape the oppressive silence, pressed harder on the gas, sending the car speeding down the road. Outside, the scenery blurred into a single unbroken streak, nothing but indistinct shadows flashing past the windows.

Before long, they arrived at the exclusive bridal atelier.

LA Wedding was a name known around the world-a legendary bridal designer whose brand, founded under her own name, had become synonymous with luxury weddings and couture bridal gowns. Every piece was bespoke, created only for private clients, with a single dress starting at several million dollars. Aristocrats and the social elite fought for the chance to have LA Wedding design their dream day-her creations had graced the ceremonies of families like the Fitzgeralds, the Wainwrights, and the Pembrokes. To commission a gown here was more than an indulgence; it was a mark of status.

Isadora followed Magnus inside. Two neat lines of assistants waited respectfully in the corridor. Lily, the director of the North American division, greeted them and led the way to a private viewing room.

In the center of the room stood a gleaming white wedding dress, perfectly illuminated. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors surrounded it, reflecting every delicate detail. The bodice was an understated strapless design, with slender straps for support, while the skirt flowed in intricate layers of silk tulle and lace-soft, cloud-like textures creating an ethereal effect.

Magnus glanced at Isadora. "Well? Do you like it?"

Isadora shot him a look, lips curling in a faintly mocking smile. "Are you sure you want me to try this on?"

Magnus frowned. "Isadora, we're here. Do you really think I'd joke about this?"

Lily stepped forward, professional and composed. "Mr. Wainwright, Miss Vaughan —this dress is crafted from pure silk taffeta and satin. The materials alone cost close to five million dollars, and every LA Wedding gown is a one-of-a-kind original. It's a true collector's piece."

Magnus tried again, softer this time. "Isadora, isn't this grand enough for you? So please, stop being upset about that ceremony with Elise-it wasn't real. It was just to grant her a wish."

Isadora lowered her eyes, silent, only glancing at the pristine gown. It was undeniably beautiful-radiant, exquisite, luxurious. She could almost picture a bride, radiant with happiness, walking down the aisle in this very dress to marry the man she loved.

She used to dream of that moment for herself and Magnus. They'd been engaged for two years now. By rights, their wedding should have happened a year ago— but Elise still hadn't found a heart donor. Magnus hadn't wanted to upset her, insisting they wait until after Elise's surgery.

He always knew how Elise felt about him. He simply called it "responsibility," excusing the way he indulged and protected her.

Staring at the dress now, Isadora felt only the ache of old disappointments and all the compromises she'd made. Nothing more.

Just then, Magnus's phone rang. He glanced at Isadora, then jerked his chin at Lily, signaling her to take Isadora to the dressing room. Moving to the window, he answered the call in a low voice.

Isadora was ushered into the spacious fitting room by several assistants. The place was big enough to fit ten people, but she felt smothered as they fussed around her, adjusting the dress. She wasn't here with a bride's joy; she couldn't even pretend.

Her face cold, she told them, "You can leave. I'll change on my own."

The assistants exchanged glances, startled. This didn't feel like a woman about to get married—it felt more like someone preparing for a funeral.

"If you need anything, Miss Vaughan, just call," one of them said gently, then they all slipped out.

Isadora stood alone amid the opulence, unmoving. Her thoughts were a tangled

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There was no way she was going to let that thirty percent share just slip through her fingers.