Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The night air was biting cold, the wind slicing through the broken passenger window like a sharp blade, its chill stabbing at my face relentlessly. I clenched my fist and slammed it hard against the steering wheel. The horn emitted a weak, grating sound that barely echoed into the darkness.

Serena sat beside me, her soft sobs and sniffles filling the cramped space of the car. Her voice buzzed annoyingly in my ears, like an incessant mosquito, fraying my nerves with every whimper. Always crying—was that all she ever did? And yet, she was the one who had screamed like a banshee just moments ago, right at that treacherous curve.

“Damian… what do we do now?” Serena’s voice trembled, tears glistening in her eyes as she reached out to touch my arm.

I snapped sharply, pushing her hand away. “Shut up!” I growled, my voice rough and sharp. “Don’t touch me! If it weren’t for your screaming distracting me…” I didn’t finish the sentence before a blinding, white light exploded in front of my eyes. For a brief moment, everything went pitch black.

Damn it! Reporters? How on earth did they get here faster than the tow truck?

“Mr. Constantine! What caused the crash?” a voice shouted.

“Are you injured? This looks serious!” another called out.

“Damian! Over here! Was it a mechanical failure or driver error?”

I cursed under my breath. Where did these vultures come from? They seemed to have crawled out of the ground, arriving quicker than any emergency crew. The relentless flashes from their cameras were like hungry eyes, capturing every detail: the bruise blooming on my forehead, Serena’s smeared makeup and tangled hair, and the wrecked yellow sports car still steaming ominously.

This was bad. I could already picture tomorrow’s headlines—maybe even tonight’s breaking news.

[Constantine’s Second Son Crashes Into Cliff, Barely Escapes Death!]

[Damian Constantine and Girlfriend Lose Control at High Speed; Luxury Car Destroyed!]

Serena and I were battered and broken, trapped inside this mangled supercar. How had I, Damian Constantine, fallen so far that these paparazzi could mock me and spread rumors like wildfire?

In the past… No, forget the past. I didn’t need to drown in that mess now.

Almost without thinking, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart.

Please, Norah, pick up.

“Damian? What happened? Slow down and tell me everything,” came her calm, soothing voice.

“I’ve got it. I’ll handle the reporters. Don’t say a word to anyone. Sophie will call the best repair shop. The tow truck’s already on its way—I’ll send you the details. Now, breathe, Damian. Just breathe…” Norah’s voice was steady, filled with care, never blame.

She always took care of everything. She arranged every detail flawlessly, even having a cup of hot cocoa waiting for me when I got home.

I never had to worry. No matter how bad things got, she would fix it all, making everything seem fine again.

Then came the brief silence.

And the cold automated voice: “Sorry, the subscriber you dialed cannot be connected at the moment. Please try again later.”

What? I couldn’t get through?

I stared at the screen, stunned. I dialed again.

“Sorry, the subscriber you dialed is powered off.”

Powered off? That wasn’t possible.

I tried once more.

“Sorry, the subscriber you dialed is powered off.”

“FUCK!” I shouted, anger and disbelief crashing over me.

—

Norah’s Perspective

Lucien and I had just returned to the apartment when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I stopped, pulled it out, and saw the name flashing on the screen: Damian.

I stared at it quietly, the familiar number stirring a complicated mix of emotions inside me. I understood immediately what this call meant.

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