Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 81

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

**Chapter 81**

**Norah’s POV**

Toy.

The word lingered in my mind like a venomous whisper as I made my way back, each step heavy with unspoken thoughts.

I spotted Amélie as she playfully fed Lucien a piece of chocolate, her laughter ringing like a bell amidst the chatter of the crowd. Lucien accepted the treat, but his gaze roamed, searching until it landed on me. He rose from his seat, a question in his eyes.

But I couldn’t bear the moment. I turned away, determined to escape the weight of his attention. Instead, I made my way to Mateo, who was sprawled languidly on a plush velvet sofa, exuding an air of effortless charm. I settled beside him, closer than necessary, feeling the warmth radiate between us.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“Not at all,” he replied, his smile lazy, as if the world around us had slowed down. “I was just placing a private wager on which of you would shed tears first.”

I couldn’t help but smirk, though it felt like a struggle to maintain my composure. “Disappointed?”

“On the contrary,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You look less like you’re about to cry and more like you’re plotting to make someone else cry.” He reached for a small dessert from a passing tray, holding it out to me. “Here. Try this. Pistachio mousse. The bitterness beneath the sweetness is… enlightening.”

I took a bite, the flavors swirling in my mouth—sharp yet creamy, a delightful complexity that grounded me amidst the chaos.

His gaze remained fixed on me, unnervingly direct, as if he could see the turmoil swirling beneath my surface. “You’re still the same,” he observed, his tone softening. “When you’re hurt, you seek out sweetness.”

I froze, the fork suspended in mid-air, my heart racing. “What did you just say?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper that sent shivers down my spine. “You still believe that something sweet can mend anything. Just like those candies you used to hide in that little music box. The ones you claimed gave people strength.”

A memory, long buried and forgotten, surged to the forefront of my mind.

Spain. A scorching afternoon.

A narrow, dusty alley.

A group of older boys encircled a thinner, dark-haired boy, shoving him and laughing cruelly.

He was on the ground, shielding his head with trembling arms, but his amber eyes—fierce, defiant, and brimming with unshed tears—burned with unyielding spirit.

Without a second thought, I sprinted forward, shouting at them to leave him alone.

They scattered, hurling curses as they fled. I crouched down beside the boy, my heart pounding.

“Crying doesn’t help,” I told him, adopting my best grown-up voice. “You have to be stronger than they are.”

I rummaged through my small backpack, my fingers trembling with urgency, and pulled out my most treasured possession: a tiny music box adorned with a delicate bird on the lid. I pressed it into his hands. “Here. When you’re sad, there’s candy inside. Sweet things help. They make you brave.”

He stared at the box, then up at me, confusion and wonder flickering in his eyes, replacing the pain.

“My name is Teo,” he whispered, as if the name itself was a fragile secret.

Teo.

Mateo.

I turned to look at the man beside me, my heart racing. The boyish softness I remembered was gone, replaced by sharp, dangerous angles. Yet those eyes—those same fierce, amber eyes—remained unchanged.

“Teo?” I breathed, the name escaping my lips like a prayer. “It’s you?”

“Norah! Do you have any idea how dangerous he is?!”

“I know exactly who he is,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “And he won’t hurt me.”

“How can you be so sure?!” he demanded, his face inches from mine, desperation etched in every line.

“Because I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you,” I shot back, tilting my head defiantly. “You get to reminisce with your childhood sweetheart. Why can’t I catch up with an old friend?”

He stiffened, as if I had struck him. “Norah, Amélie and I… it’s not what you think.”

“I know,” I interrupted, giving him a perfect replica of his own casual smirk. “It’s an act. Part of the plan. I get it.”

He let out a frustrated breath, the fight seeming to drain from him. He leaned in, his intention to kiss me unmistakable, an attempt to soothe, to reclaim.

I turned my face away, my resolve hardening. “Don’t touch me, Lucien.”

He stopped dead in his tracks.

I locked eyes with him, pouring every ounce of my hurt and anger into my words. “Don’t forget. Tonight… you belong to her.”

I pushed against his chest with all my strength.

He stumbled back a step, surprise flashing in his eyes as the reality of my words sank in.

I straightened my dress, lifted my chin defiantly, and walked back into the vibrant light and noise of the ballroom, leaving him standing alone in the shadows.

I didn’t look back.

I made my way straight to Mateo, who watched me approach with a knowing smile of quiet victory.