Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 67

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 67**

**Eleanor’s POV**

The butler’s voice, cold and detached, crackled through the phone, sending a chill down my spine. “Madam, the front gate cameras indicate that Young Master Damian was forcibly taken into a vehicle by unidentified men at the foot of his building. The car has since left the city.”

My fingers tightened around the phone, the plastic biting into my skin until my knuckles turned an ashen white.

“Deploy people to follow them,” I commanded, forcing my voice to remain steady, despite the tempest of emotions raging within me. “Get in touch with the police’s upper echelon. And compile a list of everyone Damian has interacted with in the forty-eight hours leading up to his disappearance.”

As I hung up, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to quell the boiling rage and fear that threatened to consume me.

Damian must be safe. He couldn’t be harmed, not on my watch.

With a fierce determination, I stormed into the headquarters of the Constantine Group, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, echoing my urgency.

The secretary attempted to block my path, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. “Madam, Mr. Lucien is currently in a meeting—”

I brushed past her, my frustration bubbling over as I kicked the conference room door open with a force that made it slam against the wall.

Bang!

The sound reverberated through the room, and every head turned in shock.

At the head of the table, Lucien sat, his demeanor calm and collected. Upon seeing me, he waved the others out with an air of casual nonchalance.

“Mother,” he said, rising with deliberate slowness, “your temper today seems far worse than the traffic in Paris.”

“Where is Damian?” I demanded, my voice sharp as a blade.

“Damian? My dear brother should be with his beloved fiancée at this very moment, playing out some reformed rake melodrama,” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Stop pretending, Lucien.” I stepped closer, my heart pounding with anxiety. “You threatened him before, and now he’s missing. Isn’t that just a tad too convenient?”

“Threatened?” Lucien chuckled, a sound devoid of any real mirth. “I’ve been ensconced in meetings with the board all day. Every single person here can corroborate my whereabouts.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Perhaps you should inquire with Damian himself—he’s made quite a few enemies along the way.”

“What are you implying?”

“Madrid. Surely you haven’t forgotten?” Lucien’s eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. “The name Carlos Vega should resonate with you.”

My heart plummeted.

Vega? The notorious mafia boss?

“What has happened to my son?”

“You will need to ask him directly.” Lucien sank back into his chair, a picture of calmness that infuriated me.

I glared at him, searching for any sign of weakness in his demeanor, but there was none to be found.

“You’d better hope Damian is safe,” I warned, turning to leave the room, my heart racing with dread.

“Mother,” he called after me, his voice smooth, “if you require assistance, do not hesitate to ask. He is my brother, after all.”

“I won’t need it,” I replied, refusing to look back as I exited the room, my mind racing with worry.

At the police station, I stood behind the glass, watching Norah as she recounted her statement.

Her hair was disheveled, her face pale and drawn, her body trembling—a portrait of fragility and despair.

“We were in the rooftop suite at the Calypso,” she whispered, her voice quaking with emotion. “He had filled the room with white roses… He was about to propose when men in black burst in. They dragged Damian out of his wheelchair. The ring fell…”

“I was terrified. I ran out to scream for help, but there wasn’t a single waiter in sight.”

When Norah finally emerged, her eyes met mine, wide with fear.

“Madam, Damian… he’ll be okay, right?” she asked timidly, her voice barely above a whisper.

In that moment, her vulnerability halted my anger. I couldn’t bring myself to accuse her.

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