Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Damian’s voice held a hint of surprise, but the moment his gaze landed on the marks decorating my neck and collarbone, his complexion drained of color. His eyes flared with a fierce, almost burning red intensity.

I tilted my head slightly, my voice rough and thick from just waking. “Damian, it’s so early—what’s going on? Lucien’s in the shower right now.”

I deliberately shifted my position, allowing him a clear view of the clothes carelessly strewn across the bedroom floor.

“Lucien! Get out of here!” Damian barked as he stormed into the room, nearly knocking me off balance.

“Damian, where are your manners? You should knock before barging into someone else’s home,” Lucien said coolly as he appeared, wrapped only in a towel. His body was marked with bruises and scratches. Without hesitation, he pulled me close, holding me protectively in his arms.

“What have you done to Norah?!” Damian thundered, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and humiliation.

The sting of betrayal was evident in his shaking frame.

“We were just doing what couples do. Do we need to report every move to you, little brother?” Lucien lowered his head toward me and pressed a fresh, gentle kiss against my neck.

Damian’s eyes flared even brighter, and he seemed on the verge of lunging at me. “Norah, listen to me! It’s not what you think. Lucien is not your—”

“You,” I interrupted sharply.

“Damian, do you really want to have this conversation here?” Lucien cut him off coldly. “Norah has a lot to piece together, and I intended to help her remember slowly. But if you want, I can tell her everything right now.”

Damian froze, the realization dawning that his plan to claim my assets had been uncovered.

His furious eyes glowed red, but no words came out.

Watching his face contort with rage, a fierce surge of revenge welled up inside me.

I forced a weak smile and feigned vulnerability. “What are you two even talking about? Can you stop arguing? Lucien, my head hurts…”

Damian’s rage flickered into panic, guilt clouding his expression.

He remained silent, unwilling to speak the truth.

If he did, the righteous mask he wore would shatter completely.

All he could do was stand there helplessly as Lucien gently pulled me closer.

“Damian, you’ve scared my girl. She needs rest. This is my house, so please leave,” Lucien said calmly, his back still turned toward me.

Grinding his teeth, Damian snapped, “Fine… fine! Lucien, don’t forget your promise.”

With that, he slammed the door behind him.

A heavy silence finally settled over the room.

Lucien moved to the bar and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Well played,” he said flatly, still facing away.

“We’re even now,” I said, stepping closer to meet his gaze. “So, can we talk about working together, Mr. Lucien?”

He raised an eyebrow and slid a fresh cup of coffee toward me. “I’m listening.”

“I know Damian and Serena are transferring my assets, freezing my accounts, even trying to sell my design studio,” I said, my voice steady but filled with determination.

Lucien’s brow lifted slightly, as if none of this surprised him.

“I want to take back what’s mine,” I continued, moving closer. “And I know you’re after a share of the port.”

“This place…” I stopped, staring blankly as if struggling to recall something. “It feels… familiar. Serena, what is this place? It makes me uneasy, but I swear I’ve seen it before.”

Gripping her arm tightly, I pleaded, “Can you take me inside? Maybe… maybe it’ll help me remember.”

A flicker of caution flashed in her eyes, but she forced a polite smile.

“Of course, darling. This is your studio. It’s good for you to go in and take a look.”

As we approached the door, a heated argument spilled out from inside.

“I told you! This design is completely wrong! Fishbone lace should never be used like this—you’ve ruined Norah’s entire concept! I want a refund, right now!”

The voice was unmistakably Mrs. De Villefort, the notorious old aristocrat known for her pickiness about lingerie and one of Thorn Creative’s most loyal clients.

Opposite her stood a woman in the studio’s uniform, unfamiliar to me.

“Madam, I’ll give you a refund,” the woman replied coldly. “But this style is what’s trending now. You’re just behind the times. As for Norah, she’s gone. I run this place now.”

Mrs. De Villefort trembled with fury, and the smug expression on the assistant’s face made my blood boil. I almost forgot to keep up the act.

“Please, madam, calm down,” I said smoothly, stepping forward and taking the sketch from her hand.

“You’re right. The original design used French Chantilly lace here, with fishbone lace only for support and to blend the intricate patterns. This cheap synthetic lace ruins both the support and the design.”

“And who are you to interfere?” the stranger snapped, shoving me aside roughly.

At that moment, my assistant Sophie rushed out from the back workshop. The instant she saw me, her eyes widened in shock and hurt, tears welling up instantly.

“Norah! Boss! It’s really you! You’re back!!”