Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 127

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 127**

**Chapter 127**

**Finished**

The nausea roiled within me, a relentless tide I struggled to suppress. Leaning over the sink, I splashed cold water into my mouth, hoping to wash away the bitter taste of bile that clung stubbornly to my tongue. It was a futile effort, but I needed to clear my head.

Madame Kathy stood nearby, her complexion pale, her gaze fixed on me with a mixture of shock and burgeoning sorrow. “Is it… Lucien’s?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile atmosphere.

I nodded slowly, the weight of my truth hanging heavily in the air. What more could I possibly say?

“Does he… know?” Her question hung between us, heavy with unspoken fears.

“Not yet,” I replied, instinctively placing my hand over my lower abdomen, a protective gesture that felt both natural and necessary. My voice was soft but resolute. “Madame, now is not the time to tell him. He has his battles to fight, and I have mine.”

Madame Kathy reached out, her hand warm and steady as it rested on my arm. She let out a deep sigh, a sound filled with the weight of her concern. “You’re suffering, child,” she said, her empathy wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

That simple acknowledgment, that understanding of my pain, was more comforting than any empty platitudes. She truly understood.

She refrained from mentioning Lucien’s engagement to Amélie again, which I appreciated. Instead, she guided me to a guest room, encouraging me to rest. Later, she returned with a light meal, her presence a soothing balm. As we sat together, she filled the silence with stories of Lucien’s childhood—how he had always been serious, his smile a rare gem, yet how he would secretly save his snacks to feed the stray cats that wandered through the garden.

She held my hand in hers, and in that moment, it felt like a mother comforting her wronged daughter. This rare warmth allowed my frayed nerves, stretched tight over the past few days, to finally ease a little.

As dusk settled outside, I was preparing to leave when the door swung open, revealing Lucien.

His eyes widened in surprise the moment he spotted me, and a wild, ecstatic joy ignited his expression.

But then, the heavy scent of alcohol wafted toward me, a pungent reminder of his recent escapades. My gaze dropped, and there it was—beneath the open collar of his shirt, a faint yet unmistakable red mark on his collarbone. A hickey.

My heart plummeted, falling into a dark chasm of despair.

He advanced toward me, arms outstretched in a welcoming embrace, but I instinctively recoiled, taking a sharp step back.

The joy on his face froze, confusion clouding his features as he processed my rejection.

I raised a trembling finger, pointing at the glaring red mark. My voice was icy, laced with disbelief. “What is that?”

Lucien’s hand flew to his collarbone, and his face drained of color as the reality of the situation hit him. He stumbled toward the entryway mirror, desperation written all over him.

When he caught sight of the mark in the reflection, panic washed over his features. “Norah! It’s not what you think! I…” His words spilled out in a frantic rush, each syllable tinged with urgency.

“Then what is it, Lucien? Is this your idea of ‘handling things’? Letting another woman mark you?” The accusation dripped from my lips like venom.

“No! I didn’t!” He shook his head vehemently, his eyes wide with fear. “After I left you, I was… I was filled with this anger. I had nowhere to put it. I went to the fight club. I drank. Too much. When I woke up, I was on the couch in the lounge. I don’t remember anything!”

“You don’t remember anything?” I let out a cold scoff, disbelief coursing through me. “A fight club? Lucien, you’re still lying to me!”

“No! I swear! I was there!” He fumbled for his phone, dialing a number with shaky fingers, and put it on speaker.

A respectful male voice answered, “Mr. Constantine, how may I assist you?”

“Tell me. Was I at your club this afternoon?” Lucien’s voice was taut with urgency.

“Yes, sir. You were here for hours. In the VIP ring. You knocked out four of our best sparring partners. They’re still in the infirmary,” the voice confirmed.

The baby. I remembered the baby.

Panic seized me, a cold grip tightening around my chest.

“Lucien! Stop! You’ll hurt the—” I nearly screamed, the thought of the baby sending waves of fear coursing through me.

In sheer desperation, I sank my teeth into his shoulder. I tasted the metallic tang of blood, a sharp pain jolting him back to reality.

He released me immediately, staggering away, his hands gripping his own hair in torment. “I’m sorry, Norah… I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m losing my mind.”

This proud man, once so unyielding, now looked utterly shattered, and it was all because of me.

My heart softened, just a little.

I was about to speak when his phone rang, cutting through the tense silence.

He glanced at the screen, and a flash of ruthless determination crossed his face before he answered, putting it on speaker.

“Luen, are you still upset?” Amélie’s voice filled the room, sweet and gentle, as if she were soothing a wounded child. “Don’t be angry. I’ll do whatever you want, I promise. Just be happy. Tomorrow, I’ll go with you to talk to Father about canceling the engagement, okay?”

This unexpected phone call, this sudden concession, set off alarm bells in my mind. A woman like Amélie didn’t give up easily.

Lucien turned to me, his eyes filled with a desperate plea and flickering hope.

See? He was silently begging me.

I’m fixing it. I’m making it right.