Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 174

Chapter 174

Norah’s POV

:

+5 Pea

Police swarmed the warehouse, cuffing the kidnappers while an officer worked to free Lucien from the heavy chains.

The moment he was loose, Lucien staggered to his feet–then buckled. I caught him, wrappin my arms around him as he leaned heavily against me.

Irina and Katarina rushed over. “Norah! Thank God you’re okay!”

Irina checked her watch, her face going pale. “The show starts in an hour!”

Katarina shook her head. “He can’t go on

e this. It’d be suicide.”

Lucien’s face was ghost–white, sweat beading on his temples. His breath came in ragged pants. Seeing the bloodied, mangled wounds covering his body, I couldn’t hold back my tears.

“It’s alright, Norah.” He lifted a trembling hand to wipe my cheek. “I promised you. I can walk.”

Seeing the stubborn fire in his eyes, I made a choice.

“Treat his wounds–now!” I yelled to my assistant. “Get the car! We’re going back to the venue!”

Backstage was pure chaos. The sharp scent of blood mixed with antiseptic hung in the air.

The onsite doctor shook his head. “He’s lost too much blood. Possible broken ribs, severe blunt–force trauma to the back–he shouldn’t be moving.”

Lucien sat slumped in a chair, his torso a mess of angry welts and fresh, dark bruises.

“Just give me the shot,” he gritted out, reaching for the painkiller.

I took the bandages and ointment from the doctor. My hands shook as I gently traced the brutal marks across his back. The wounds overlapped, cruel yet holding a strange, degraded beauty.

He flinched, muscles tightening, but didn’t make a sound.

“Does it hurt?” My voice trembled.

He caught my hand, squeezing tight. “Trust me.”

Tears welling, I nodded and began wrapping the bandages around his broken skin.

1/3

10:08 Fri, Jan 2

Chapter 174

When it was time, I helped him into the “Broken Vows” piece myself.

Waiting in the wings, Lucien leaned on me, offering a weak smile.

“You’re both insane,” Katarina muttered, her own eyes suspiciously red.

Irina watched us quietly. “No. This is love.”

The show music swelled. The runway doors opened. A single spotlight cut through the darkness.

༢

+51

Lucien stepped out. Shirtless, wearing the black briefs with the blood–toned iris. The light carved out his pale, striking features. The purple bruises merged with the gold embroidery. With every step, fresh blood seeped through the bandages, mirroring the stain I’d sewn into the lace—a brutal, hypnotic beauty that stunned the crowd into silence.

His walk was steady, fierce. A battle–scarred lion claiming his domain.

At the end of the runway, he struck his pose. The massive screen behind him lit up with an extreme close–up of the lace: the gold–threaded iris, the single drop of blood at its heart. Besi it, sharp gold letters: Designer: Norah Hawthorne.

He turned, showing his back to the audience. The blood–soaked bandages created a stark, powerful image against the screen.

After a breath of silence, camera shutters exploded.

As he walked back, he swayed, stumbling. I rushed forward and caught him.

He gasped into my neck, voice faint but smiling. “My queen… are you pleased?”

I rose on my toes and kissed him. “I am.”

Before the audience could recover, the other models flooded the runway. The show was a storm of aggressive elegance and raw sensuality.

Amid roaring applause, I prepared to take my final bow alone.

“Together,” Lucien insisted, catching my hand. He’d changed into a black shirt, clumsily buttoned over the bandages. His face was still deathly pale.

“You can barely stand,” I whispered, heart aching.

“I can still hold you,” he said stubbornly, lacing his fingers with mine.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify