Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 48

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 48**

**Chapter 48**

**Norah’s POV**

As I stood there, the throng of reporters in front of me slowly lowered their cameras, a collective hush falling over the scene.

For a fleeting moment, the world around me seemed to pause, a breath held in anticipation.

Then, breaking the silence, one particularly insufferable man began to clap. The sound was slow and dripping with sarcasm, each clap echoing like a taunt.

Before long, others joined in, their claps forming a cacophony that grated against my nerves like nails scraping across a chalkboard.

Just then, Sophie burst through the crowd, her face streaked with tears, a mixture of relief and anger.

She enveloped me in a tight embrace, her arms squeezing with an intensity that momentarily took my breath away.

“Boss, that was absolutely insane! You shut them all down!”

I offered a gentle pat on her back, but my gaze was already darting across the crowd, searching for familiar faces.

The junior designers, those who had been whispering about quitting only moments ago, shuffled over, their expressions a blend of red-faced shame and regret.

“We’re so sorry, boss… we were wrong. We want to stay and fight alongside you.”

A tired smile crept onto my lips, though it felt hollow and devoid of true warmth.

They simply didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. This wasn’t some team-building exercise; this was a full-blown war.

Suddenly, the wailing of sirens sliced through the air, sharp and furious.

Two police cars screeched to a halt, their lights flashing like angry beacons.

The reporters, like vultures drawn to a fresh carcass, swung their cameras in eager anticipation.

Cops emerged from the vehicles, their uniforms crisp and faces set in stern lines.

They led a group of sullen-looking kids, each one young, reckless, and utterly terrified.

The lead officer approached me, his badge glinting under the harsh lights.

“Ms. Hawthorne, we’ve apprehended the individuals responsible for vandalizing your studio.”

I cast a glance at the group of kids. None of them dared to meet my eyes, their shame palpable.

“We received an anonymous tip,” he continued, voice steady. “We found the paint, the brushes—everything. They confessed.”

One of the kids broke down, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Hawthorne! We were just paid to do it—”

“By whom?” I demanded, my voice icy and unyielding.

Another kid, desperate to save himself, piped up, “A woman named Katarina! She paid us a lot of cash. Said we just had to ruin your reputation.”

Katarina. Of course, it had to be her.

The woman was still playing her twisted games.

“Please, Ms. Hawthorne!” the first kid pleaded, his voice trembling. “We’ll pay for the damages—just don’t press charges!”

I let out a bitter laugh, sharp and devoid of humor. “Another chance? When you decided to smear a woman you’ve never met, did you give her a chance? When you aimed to destroy what someone has built over years, did you even pause to think?”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice to a whisper that dripped with disdain. “I don’t want your apology. And I certainly don’t want your money.”

“You’re beginning to see the bigger picture,” Irina whispered, a knowing smile gracing her lips. “Eleanor and Katarina have teamed up to crush you with this ‘Elysian Dream.’ They want to bury you once and for all.”

With a deliberate motion, she lifted my chin with a perfectly manicured nail. “Since we share the same enemies, why not band together? You help me dethrone that woman, and I’ll assist you in reclaiming everything they’ve taken from you—your name, your inheritance, and…” Her gaze locked onto mine, piercing and unyielding. “…your man.”

Her stare was a challenge, a dare that ignited something fierce within me.

“Do you have the courage to stand with me and declare war on them in front of all of Paris?”

A surge of heat coursed through my veins, raw and unfiltered fury.

Take everything back.

My name.

My life.

My power.

I met her gaze, unwavering and resolute. “Deal. I’m done playing nice.”

Irina’s smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. She grasped my hand, her grip firm and unyielding.

“They want to destroy you with rumors? Then we’ll bury them under their own lies.”

She sauntered over to the bar, pulled out her phone, and dialed with an air of authority.

“Darling, it’s Irina. I need an exclusive. Top priority. Live.”

A pause, followed by a sharp smile. “Yes—her. Prime time tomorrow. I want all of Paris listening.”