Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 114

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 114**

**Norah’s POV**

Once Lucien had departed, I sank to my knees, my heart racing as I began to gather the scattered papers that littered the floor like fallen leaves after a storm. Each sheet felt like a weight in my hands, heavy with the memories and emotions they carried.

My fingers trembled uncontrollably, a reflection of the turmoil swirling within me.

**Finished.**

The realization that I had been treated as nothing more than a bargaining chip—an object to be counted, traded, and manipulated—ignited a fierce anger beneath my skin. It was a feeling I couldn’t shake, a fire that burned with relentless intensity.

Mateo approached, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. “I can help you with that,” he offered, moving closer.

“No, I’ve got it,” I replied, my voice firmer than I felt. I needed to do this myself, to reclaim what was mine, even if it was just a pile of papers.

I meticulously stacked the documents, ensuring each one was in its rightful place before locking them away in the safe.

Finally, I had reclaimed my parents’ estate—a culmination of months of relentless effort and mounting costs.

It should have felt like a victory, but instead, it left me feeling as if I had lost everything all over again.

The following day, I found myself back at the ruins of Thornbird, the place where my journey had begun. This was the ground where I would stand my ground and fight for what I believed in.

I was living on-site, pouring over blueprints and plans with designers and contractors, my determination unwavering. I didn’t want to simply rebuild; I craved a rebirth—a transformation that would breathe new life into the ashes of the past.

On the third afternoon, while I was inspecting the display mounts, my new assistant, Emily, sidled up to me with a nervous look.

“Boss, she’s back. That person outside,” she said, her voice low.

I glanced across the street, and there it was—the same car, parked in its usual spot. The rear window was half-down, and I could see Lucien sitting in the back seat, his presence a looming shadow.

Though his face was obscured, I could feel his gaze piercing through the distance, fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart race.

He didn’t step out; he merely watched, an unspoken tension hanging in the air between us.

What was he trying to convey?

Atonement?

Confession?

I clenched the fabric swatch in my hand, forcing myself to turn away. “Ignore him,” I muttered under my breath.

But he returned the next day. And the day after that.

Always at the same hour: three to four in the afternoon.

Same car. Same spot. It became a ritual, an unspoken agreement between us.

And Amélie was always by his side, her presence a constant reminder of what I could never have.

So there we stood, day after day, separated by nothing more than a stretch of asphalt—each of us silently challenging the other, our hearts slowly being shredded apart.

One afternoon, Mateo called it our “one-month reunion anniversary.” He arrived at the site in a sleek black Cullinan, stepping out with a large bouquet of blue roses that seemed to glow in the sunlight. He approached me with a playful grin.

“Nono, come see something,” he urged, excitement dancing in his eyes.

I couldn’t help but cast a fleeting glance toward the familiar car lurking at the corner, my heart quickening.

“Okay,” I replied, curiosity piqued.

I took the flowers and climbed into the vehicle.

We drove to a private atelier tucked away off Place Vendôme, a hidden gem that felt as if it were plucked from a dream.

Amélie tightened her grip on his arm, her tone sharp as she snapped back, “Grand gestures, Mr. Vega. But some things cannot be bought—like a name, and a family’s blessing. Lucien needs a wife who can stabilize relations between the Constantines and the Veyrons. Only I can do that.”

I felt my body go rigid at her words, a wave of anger coursing through me. Mateo sensed my tension and pulled me closer, his arm around me as if to shield me from her venomous gaze. He looked at Lucien, his voice calm but filled with an edge. “Stability? Sounds like Mr. Constantine has… problems. The kind that require the Veyron family—or rather, Miss Amélie—to smooth over.”

A soft, disdainful laugh escaped Amélie’s lips. “Fortunately, that has nothing to do with us. I’m busy planning a wedding the whole world will watch. I’ll expect you both there.”

Wedding?

I turned to Lucien once more, searching his face for any sign of regret or hesitance.

He stood there, simply looking back at me, a silent acknowledgment of the distance that had grown between us.

He didn’t rush over to pull me away from Mateo.

He didn’t deny the engagement.

So this was his choice.

In the face of family duty and the expectations of his mother, I was still the one he could easily forgo.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, absurd even to my own ears.

I turned to Mateo, pressing a kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against my lips. “Let’s go, Teo,” I said, taking his arm firmly.

We walked past Lucien, my heart pounding, refusing to look back.

“Norah Hawthorne! You shameless bitch!” Amélie shrieked from behind us, her voice laced with fury. “What do you think you are doing? Lucien doesn’t love you—he’s just using you! You’ll never be me!”

I didn’t slow my pace.

I didn’t look back.