Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 128

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 128**

**Chapter 128**

**Amélie’s POV**

As I stared at my phone, the words ‘Sent Successfully’ glowed on the screen, but instead of a sense of accomplishment, an overwhelming wave of humiliation washed over me.

The memory replayed in my mind like a haunting melody. Even in the depths of his drunken stupor, Lucien had managed to slur her name, Norah’s name, as if it were the only thing that mattered in his world.

I could still feel the heat of his body pressing down on me, my own desperation laid bare beneath him, and yet the only name that escaped his lips was hers. Why?!

Just as I wrestled with my thoughts, my private investigator’s call broke through the haze of my emotions.

“Miss Veyron,” he said, his tone professional yet slightly strained, “the information you requested has been sent to your email.”

I ended the call and quickly opened the file, my heart racing with anticipation.

The latest surveillance photos were shocking. They captured candid moments outside a hospital, and I felt a chill run down my spine as I saw her—Norah Hawthorne.

She was clad in an oversized trench coat, her complexion as pale as a ghost, emerging from the OB-GYN clinic. In her trembling hand, she clutched a piece of paper, its significance weighing heavily in the air.

The investigator had zoomed in on the image, and although it was somewhat blurred, the words were clear enough to send my mind spiraling into chaos. It was an ultrasound report.

[Patient Name: Norah Hawthorne]

[Intrauterine Early Pregnancy, Approx. 6 Weeks]

Pregnant.

That insufferable woman was carrying Lucien’s child.

In that moment, clarity struck me like a lightning bolt. I knew our relationship was irrevocably altered. I understood him far too well.

For now, he might play the part of the dutiful fiancé, signing that engagement paper for the sake of appearances, for his family, for the power he sought. But if he discovered that she was pregnant? Everything would shift.

That child would become an unbreakable bond between them, a reason for him to dismantle every barrier he had built against her. Family ties, business obligations, the so-called life-debt to his mother—it would all crumble.

He would abandon everything and rush to her side. And me?

What would I be left with?

I couldn’t help but reflect on the years I had spent shadowing his mother, pouring my heart into a love that felt more like an obsession than anything else.

No.

I refused to accept that.

Gazing at the report, a dark, twisted idea began to form in my mind. I couldn’t simply intimidate Norah away this time.

No. This time, I had to ensure that she—and that wretched child—vanished from our lives entirely.

The private club was eerily quiet as I sat across from Lucien, observing the weariness etched on his handsome features. A tumult of jealousy and love twisted inside me like a knife, each emotion vying for dominance.

“Talk. What game are you playing now?” His voice was frigid, devoid of warmth, as if I were merely another business associate.

I slid a glass of whiskey toward him, forcing a bitter smile that masked my turmoil. “Lucien, I’m exhausted.”

His hand hesitated, and he finally raised his gaze to meet mine.

“I know why you signed that paper. For the channel. For leverage against your mother.” I let out a hollow laugh, bitterness lacing my words. “I also know that I’ve never had a place in your heart. Not before, not now, not ever.”

I held his gaze, allowing tears to shimmer in my eyes. “Amélie Veyron still has her pride. I refuse to use a contract to ensnare a man who loves another.”

His expression shifted, just a fraction. “What are you implying?”

“We’ll maintain the engagement until you secure what you need. Until your position is unassailable,” I said slowly, watching the gears turn in his mind. “Then we end it. But I won’t play this role without compensation.”

Fool. As long as it unfolds on my father’s turf, your people will merely serve as decoration.

He made his decision. “My lawyers will draft the transfer papers for the mines and the port shares. I want all original channel documents and leverage delivered to me before the wedding.”

“Deal.” I raised my glass, forcing a smile that was both sincere and pained. “Pleasure doing business, Lucien. I eagerly await Miss Norah’s masterpiece.”

He regarded me with a complicated expression, and in the end, he lifted his glass, clinking it lightly against mine.

He downed his drink and set the glass down. “Coordinate the details with my assistant.”

Then he left, just like that.

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the private room.

All the pretense of vulnerability evaporated, and I erupted into laughter.

Fool.

Lucien, do you truly believe I would orchestrate a wedding for you and that woman?

You will soon discover the truth. This isn’t a wedding; it’s a funeral.

A funeral I am meticulously planning for that wretched girl and the child she carries.

A wedding… what a perfect ruse.

The bridal suite… an ideal, enclosed space.

When she is adorned in her dress, blissfully waiting for her knight, perhaps a small fire could “accidentally” ignite. Or a wanted criminal might “burst in.” Or maybe the bride could “trip” on her gown and take a long, tragic tumble down the stairs.

Lucien, you are the one leading her to the trap.

I can hardly wait to see the expression on your face when you receive the news—not of your bride’s arrival, but of her demise.