Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 112

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 112**
**Chapter 112**

**Norali’s POV**

The clock struck 83, and the world outside my car felt like a distant echo.

“My queen,” Mateo’s voice was a husky whisper, warm against the cold metal of the vehicle. “The next move is always yours.”

Before I could gather my thoughts to respond, he tightened his grip around my waist, leading me away from the chaotic scene that had become my life.

I couldn’t resist the urge to glance back one last time.

Lucien stood there, frozen in place, his eyes wide and bloodshot, fixated on me as if I were the last flicker of hope in his world. But he remained motionless, a statue carved from despair.

Kathy held onto his arm, her mouth dangerously close to his ear, whispering secrets I would never know.

Beside them, Amélie stood tall, a victor savoring her conquest, her posture radiating triumph.

In that moment, they looked so right together, a perfect family framed against the backdrop of my shattered dreams.

And there I was, perpetually on the outside, the ever-present outsider.

A hollow ache settled in my chest, a raw and empty sensation that gnawed at my insides.

With a heavy heart, I climbed into the car beside Mateo.

The door thudded shut behind me, sealing away my last flicker of hope, the last remnants of my foolish dreams.

I resided in Mateo’s castle, a dazzling prison where every corner screamed of wealth and luxury. Priceless art adorned the walls, and antique furniture filled the rooms, each piece a testament to opulence.

Yet, despite the beauty surrounding me, it felt like a cage. Fear and anxiety were my relentless companions, shadows that clung to me like a second skin.

To escape the suffocating reality, I threw myself into work. New designs flowed from my fingertips, sketches covering every inch of my room like a chaotic tapestry.

The betrayal from Lucien, the twisted games played by Amélie, and the shameful pleasure Mateo extracted from me all bled onto the paper. My emotions transformed into wild, destructive lines—a chaotic mix of sin and something pure.

But Lucien never called.

One day passed. Then two. Then three.

Silence. No calls. No texts.

He had vanished from my life, slipping away like smoke on the wind.

I made a vow to myself: I wouldn’t be the one to reach out first. I refused to break.

He had chosen to remain with his mother’s plans. Why should I bend to his will?

Yet, as night fell and silence enveloped the castle, a familiar pain throbbed in my chest, screaming the truth I tried to deny. I missed him. The ache was physical, a madness that consumed me.

Every day, I climbed to the highest balcony, my eyes scanning the road below.

I told myself I wasn’t waiting for him.

I was merely waiting for my parents’ belongings to arrive.

But a nasty little voice in my head mocked me. Admit it, Norah. You’re waiting. You want him to come, to explain, to say it was all a mistake, to take you away from this gilded prison.

The thought tormented me, gnawing at my sanity.

Another sleepless night found me wandering barefoot to the bar, craving a drink—something strong enough to dull the pain.

“Can’t sleep?”

It was Mateo, appearing like a shadow in the dim light, holding a mug of steaming milk.

“Booze is bad for you,” he said, gently taking the bottle from my hand and replacing it with the warm mug. “Nono, that’s the fifth time you’ve looked out the window today.”

I accepted the mug, my silence a shield against the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

“He’s busy consolidating power,” Mateo continued, leaning casually against the bar. “Eleanor’s people are entrenched. It takes time. Plus, the Veyron arms business needs his attention now too.”

He locked eyes with me, his amber gaze piercing through my defenses. “Do you feel trapped here, Nono?”

For a brief moment, I felt the weight of his concern, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that almost disarmed me.

His assistant stepped forward, meticulously opening the files one by one, spreading them before me like a dark revelation.

“Your parents’ estate. The vineyards. The funds. Jewelry. Art. All of it. Recovered and liquidated,” the assistant stated, each word a dagger to my heart.

Everything Eleanor and Damian had stolen from me, laid out in neat, cold order.

“Your shares in Elysian Dream—the ones Damian signed over. All sorted.”

“And this,” he continued, “a compensation agreement. The Constantine Group will pay triple for all damages to you and Thornbird.”

I stared from the papers to the man on the sofa, who remained cold and impassive.

Lucien. In total control.

He was settling his accounts, and I felt like a mere spectator in my own life.

I lifted my chin, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Lucien, is this you drawing a line? Ending us?”

Silence enveloped the room. No affirmation, no denial.

Just those deep, unreadable eyes watching me, full of emotions I couldn’t decipher.

That silence shattered something within me. It ignited a fuse of all my hurt, fear, and rage.

A line?

I sprang to my feet, my arm sweeping across the table in a fit of fury. Papers scattered like leaves in a storm—a blizzard of legal jargon.

“Lucien Constantine!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls. “You think this settles what’s between us?”

“You believe that giving back my possessions and throwing money at me can fix everything? Erase the lies? The betrayal? The hell you put me through?”

I pointed a trembling finger at the door, pouring every ounce of strength into my words.

“Get out!”

“Get the hell out of here!”