Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 104

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 104**

**Chapter 104**

**Norah’s POV**

At last, Eleanor made her grand entrance, flanked by a horde of reporters who seemed to vibrate with anticipation.

“Norah Hawthorne! You shameless whore!” she screamed, her voice echoing like a siren’s wail outside my door. “I know you’re in there! Lucien is a wanted man, and you just can’t wait, can you? Running off to a place like this to sleep around with another man?!”

The reporters surged forward like a pack of ravenous sharks catching the scent of blood in the water. Their cameras swung toward my door, flashes erupting like fireworks, capturing every moment of this chaotic scene.

Eleanor was gunning for a scandalous snapshot of me, half-dressed and tangled with some man in a seedy hotel room. She craved the world to see Norah Hawthorne as nothing more than a pathetic woman who crumbled the moment a man walked away.

With resolve, I approached the door and peered through the peephole.

Eleanor’s face twisted in a grotesque mix of triumph and malice, her eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction.

A smile crept across my lips, a flicker of defiance igniting within me.

I smoothed down my dress, lifted my chin, and swung the door open wide.

I met her gaze with cool indifference, allowing my eyes to drift past her to the reporters behind, all practically buzzing with excitement, eager for the drama to unfold.

“Mrs. Constantine,” I began, my voice dripping with sweetness, “your husband is dead. Are you feeling lonely? Is that why you’ve come to a place like this—for comfort?”

The smug expression on her face faltered, freezing in place like a statue.

I stepped closer, deliberately letting my eyes roam over her expensive black suit, then back to her face, which was now a canvas of rage and humiliation.

“What a pity, really,” I sighed, feigning pity. “You’re… not exactly in your prime anymore. I doubt many men are lining up for a bod that’s already dried out.”

“You—!” she sputtered, her face flushing a mottled purple-red, as if she might explode right then and there.

Blinded by fury, she raised her hand, swinging it straight toward my face.

I stood my ground, refusing to flinch.

In an instant, a strong hand caught her wrist mid-swing.

Mateo stepped in beside me, positioning himself protectively between us, his body shielding mine completely.

His fingers tightened around Eleanor’s wrist, just enough to elicit a gasp of pain from her.

“Mrs. Constantine,” Mateo said, his voice calm yet laced with icy authority, “clearly, no one has explained this to you—my woman is not someone you can lay a finger on.”

He released her with a dismissive flick of his hand, watching as she stumbled back, shock and fear flashing across her features.

“You?!” she exclaimed, staring at him as if he were a ghost risen from the grave.

Mateo didn’t even deign to look at her again. Instead, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close to him, presenting a united front in front of the cameras.

Only then did he lift his head, casting a cold, arrogant gaze over the reporters and onlookers.

“I don’t care who you are,” he drawled lazily, “or who you work for.”

“I’ll say this one more time. Norah Hawthorne is under my protection.”

“Anyone who lays a hand on her…” His eyes narrowed, returning to Eleanor, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, “I’ll make sure the entire Constantine Group pays the price.”

A few days later, Mateo kept his promise.

Under the banner of “demanding justice for my woman,” he arrived at the Constantine estate with a small army of bodyguards and a convoy of more than ten sleek black cars.

When the convoy rolled up, the staff at the old mansion turned pale, their faces draining of color.

To them, it must have looked as if the mob had come to collect a debt.

The butler and house staff were thrown into a frenzy. Eleanor had no choice but to confront him.

Clad in full mourning black, she clung desperately to her image as the lady of the house, but the fear and fury in her eyes burned hotter than the sun.

“Mr. Vega, what is the meaning of this?” she asked, her voice trembling as she spoke through clenched teeth.

Mateo lounged on the sofa in the main sitting room, one leg casually crossed over the other, exuding an air of utter nonchalance in enemy territory.

“Nothing complicated,” he replied, his tone casual.

“I’m just here to get justice for my woman.”

Eleanor’s expression darkened further, a storm brewing in her eyes.

“Nono was frightened,” Mateo continued, his tone turning almost bored. “She’s not feeling well and needs rest. I thought I’d borrow a guest room. I’m sure you won’t mind, will you, Mrs. Constantine?”

He left her with no room to refuse.

I caught on immediately, pressing a hand to my forehead, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.

“Teo… my head is spinning. I’m going upstairs to lie down.”

Eleanor’s glare could have burned a hole through steel, but she remained silent, her fury palpable in the air.

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