Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 162

Chapter 162

Norah’s Perspective

The first thing I felt was the softness of the bed beneath me.

Then, the warmth of his arms. I was back in the familiar bedroom, cradled against Lucien’s chest.

He was gently drying my hair with a towel.

His movements were careful, almost reverent.

Then he reached for one of his own crisp white shirts and helped me into it. The fabric swallowed me whole, smelling clean, like him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

I shook my head, even though my stomach was a hollow, aching pit. The thought of food made me feel sick.

“You need to eat something,” he insisted. It wasn’t a suggestion. He left the room and returned a few minutes later carrying a tray.

On it was a bowl of steaming hot milk.

He sat on the edge of the bed, scooped a spoonful, blew on it carefully to cool it, and held it to my lips.

I just looked at him. This man who commanded a vast commercial empire, this king who could make financial markets tremble with a single word, was now trying to feed me milk with a clumsy, unpracticed intensity.

His movements were stiff. So tense that his wrist trembled slightly. A drop splashed onto the pristine white bedsheet.

He cursed under his breath, set the bowl down quickly, and grabbed a tissue to frantically dab at the stain.

The sight of him, flustered and fumbling, softened something tight and sharp in my chest.

I reached out my left hand. “I can do it myself.”

He looked at me, his expression stubborn.

He just scooped another spoonful, blew on it again, and held it steady. “Just… be good,” he said, his voice hoarse.

I sighed. It felt like giving in, and maybe it was.

But I was too tired to fight.

I obediently opened my mouth.

He fed me the entire bowl.

A faint, genuine warmth finally began to spread through my cold, numb body.

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15:11 Tue, Dec 30 GR

Chapter 162

“Time to change the dressing,” he said afterward, bringing over the first–aid kit.

He carefully unwrapped the bandage on my right hand.

Finished

When he saw the fresh, stitched gash from the glass, his brow furrowed. His touch was feather–light as he applied the ointment with a cotton swab, but his gaze was locked on the old, silvery scar beneath the new injury.

“Did it hurt?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I shook my head.

He didn’t say another word, focusing entirely on re–bandaging my hand with a strange, solemn concentration.

When he was done, he cradled my hand in both of his, leaned down, and pressed his lips gently against the clean, white gauze.

Night deepened.

We lay in the massive bed.

A careful, person–sized distance separated us. Neither of us spoke.

After a while, I stirred, trying to get up, thinking I should go to a guest room.

“Don’t go.” His arm shot out, pulling me back against him, holding me tightly in his embrace. “Just let me hold you… please?” His voice held a raw pleading I’d never heard before.

I stopped moving.

I let myself lean against his warm, solid chest, listening to his steady, strong heartbeat. For the first time in three years, the terror and exhaustion seemed to find a quiet corner to rest. I fell into a deep, but restless sleep.

The bloody, desperate scenes of my memories played on a loop in my dreams.

“Don’t touch me… get away…” I thrashed, whimpering in my sleep, until a warm embrace enveloped me completely.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m here, Norah. I’m right here…” a voice murmured into my hair.

I gradually calmed down, finding a more comfortable position in his arms, and sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Morning sunlight filtered through a gap in the curtains. I opened my eyes. Lucien was already awakenly on his side beside me, propped on one elbow, just watching me quietly. He looked like he hadn’t slept night. His eyes were bloodshot, with heavy, dark circles underneath.

“Awake?” His voice was gravelly.

Chapter 162

Finished

I nodded and sat up. The oversized shirt slipped off my shoulder. His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly, and he quickly looked away.

“I need to get ready,” I said, throwing back the covers.

“Your clothes…” He stood up, walked to a section of the wall, and slid open a panel, revealing a door.

It wasn’t just a closet. It was a massive, walk–in dressing room. And inside… were racks and racks of clothes. Dresses, coats, blouses. Every single piece was in my exact size.

I walked in, selected a loqse, soft cashmere dress, and changed into it.

When I walked out, breakfast was waiting.

After we finished, I said to him, “Walk with me.”

The morning air on the estate was cool and crisp.

He immediately took off his own overcoat and draped it over my shoulders. Then, naturally, he took my ice–cold left hand, tucked it into the warm pocket of his own coat, and wrapped his hand firmly around

mine.

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