Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 38

Norah’s Perspective

“Norah, there’s something important I have to tell you,” Serena finally said, lifting her head slowly. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but there was a quiet determination in her gaze.

I met her stare, silently urging her to go on.

“Not long after your car accident, Damian showed up at my place—drunk out of his mind. He was boasting, proud as ever, about how he had orchestrated the whole thing. Step by step, he explained how he planned to take control of your parents’ estate and pocket the insurance money.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. I had long suspected something like this, but hearing it confirmed felt like ice water flooding my veins.

Serena took a shaky breath. “I was terrified. Maybe it was self-preservation, or just a sudden impulse—but I recorded everything he said that night.”

“Where is it?” I asked, my eyes sharp and unwavering. This was the proof we needed to bring Damian down.

A flicker of doubt crossed her face. “I was scared that Damian or Eleanor might find the recording, so I didn’t keep it on me. Instead, I hid it among your parents’ Asian antiques—they never really cared much about those pieces.”

“Which one?” I pressed.

“A carved red sandalwood jewelry box. It has a false bottom.”

My parents’ collection. A secret compartment.

“Are you sure?” I asked, locking eyes with her.

She hesitated briefly, searching her memory, then nodded with conviction.

On the drive back to Lucien’s apartment, my mind raced through the past.

After my parents died, many of their belongings—including their collectibles—had been “temporarily” stored by Damian, who was my fiancé at the time. I was overwhelmed with grief and unable to handle the details. Later, thinking we would marry, I never bothered to reclaim those items. Everything I owned, I assumed, would eventually become mine anyway.

Breaking the silence, Lucien said, “An Asian jewelry box? Norah, do you remember the side gallery at the last family dinner? The display shelf—the one where they’d added several Eastern pieces?”

I sat up straighter. I had noticed them too; the style had vaguely reminded me of my parents’ taste. So it wasn’t just my imagination.

“The old Constantine estate?” I asked.

Security there was notoriously tight. Getting anything out would be nearly impossible.

As we debated our next steps, my phone buzzed. It was Madame Clémentine.

“My dear Norah, I have seen the dreadful news. Are you holding up?” her warm voice asked.

A flicker of comfort touched my heart. I explained everything to her.

She paused before replying softly, “Do not worry, child. Tomorrow evening, there will be a royal charity auction. The Constantine family, eager to show off their patronage, has donated several items, including some East Asian artifacts. You will attend as my representative. Perhaps you will find what you seek.”

It was perfect. I thanked her profusely, though a knot of anxiety still twisted in my stomach.

Eleanor’s donation might include Asian antiques, but there was no guarantee our particular piece would be among them.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I turned to Lucien. “I need your help.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by my straightforwardness.

“If that piece shows up,” I said honestly, “my resources won’t match Eleanor’s. Lucien… I need a loan. Whatever it costs, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

He smiled and pulled me close. “Norah, you’ve finally decided to trust me. There are no loans between us—what’s mine is yours. It will be my honor to spend whatever it takes on your behalf.”

The following evening, we sat in the seats of honor reserved for Madame Clémentine—impossible to miss, with their prime view of the auction.

I could feel the weight of countless eyes on me. The coldest stare came from Eleanor, seated a few rows ahead.

As the auction began, I gripped my phone tightly. Every time a new item was presented, I took a discreet photo and sent it to Serena, who was anxiously waiting back at the apartment.

When a carved mahogany jewelry box inlaid with mother-of-pearl appeared, Serena’s reply was instant:

I pressed my lips together and turned away, refusing to respond.

When the auction resumed, another Eastern piece was brought forward: a small jade incense burner, modestly priced.

Perhaps exhausted from the earlier bidding war—or simply uninterested—no one raised a paddle.

The auctioneer called twice. Silence. The piece was about to be withdrawn.

I nudged Lucien. “Now. Bid.”

He frowned slightly but raised his paddle with casual elegance.

Eleanor gave us a dismissive glance but did not move.

“Sold!” The gavel fell. Lucien had won it for a fraction of its true value.

An attendant brought the delicate burner to our table.

I lifted it carefully and, with practiced fingers, pressed a specific spot on the wooden base—just as I had learned in my youth.

A hidden panel slid open, revealing a slim silver voice recorder nestled inside.

I retrieved it and met Lucien’s eyes. A wave of relief washed over us both.

Then I turned toward Eleanor, who was still basking in her earlier “victory,” and offered her my brightest smile.

“Thank you, Mrs. Constantine. Your… enthusiastic bidding clearly intimidated the room—allowing us to acquire what we truly desired, quite economically.”

I gestured elegantly with the incense burner. “This was our target all along. We appreciate you clearing the way.”

Eleanor’s triumphant smile froze. She stared at me, her face flushing a deep, furious red. Her hand trembled, and champagne sloshed over the rim of her glass.