Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Without hesitation, I spun around, scanning the bustling crowd until my eyes locked onto that unmistakable silhouette standing near the terrace. Relief and urgency surged through me as I hurried toward him.

“Lucien!” I called out, my voice trembling with alarm.

He turned to face me, arching a single brow in mild curiosity. “What’s the matter, little Thorn Creative? You look so serious. Who’s causing you trouble?”

Grasping his hand firmly, I pulled him closer, lowering my voice. “Lucien… they’re setting you up! In the dressing room! The target is Mrs. Brissac!”

His expression shifted instantly, the warmth draining from his face, replaced by a hard, cold edge.

“The dressing room… at the end of the east corridor,” he muttered, lips curling into a sneer. “Just as I suspected—such a cheap, filthy trick.” His fingers tightened around mine reassuringly. “Don’t panic, Norah. If they want to play dirty…” He leaned in, voice low and dangerous. “Then we’ll play their game.”

At that moment, a ripple of excitement stirred near the entrance of the grand hall. Serena appeared, escorting a distinguished lady with an air of quiet command.

The woman was draped in a sleek black velvet gown that shimmered under the chandelier’s glow. A strand of large black pearls graced her neck, complementing her delicate yet commanding features, radiating the aura of someone accustomed to power and respect.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Serena announced with a respectful tone laced with pride, “please welcome Madam Medici from Milan.”

The room fell into a hush the instant the name was spoken. The Medici family held an ancient and formidable reputation in Italy’s financial circles. For the Constantine family to garner their attention was nothing short of extraordinary.

Damian immediately abandoned his guests, approaching Madam Medici with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. “Madam Medici! Bienvenue à Paris! I’m Damian Constantine—it’s an honor to meet you.”

Gracefully, Madam Medici extended her hand, allowing Damian to kiss it. Then, her lips parted to speak rapid, flawless Italian.

Damian’s smile faltered, confusion flickering across his face. He glanced anxiously at Serena, who had until now maintained her composure with effortless grace.

But for the first time, a crack appeared in Serena’s polished demeanor. “Madam, your presence brings us great honor…” she began.

Yet Madam Medici frowned, repeating her words even faster, her tone sharp with impatience, still in Italian.

Damian and Serena exchanged bewildered glances, clearly lost. Damian forced a stiff smile while Serena gestured helplessly beside him, the tension thickening with each passing second.

Whispers spread among the guests, amusement glinting in their eyes as they watched the unfolding awkwardness.

Madam Medici’s expression darkened further. With a graceful withdrawal of her hand and a curt nod, she turned to leave.

It was painfully clear she was disappointed and irritated that the heir to the Constantine empire couldn’t manage even a basic conversation.

Damian’s frustration was palpable—he was on the verge of losing a golden opportunity right before his eyes.

Taking a steadying breath, I slipped forward from the edge of the crowd, bending my knees slightly in a respectful bow. Then, in fluent Italian, I addressed Madam Medici.

She froze, eyes widening in surprise at my unexpected words.

A spark of delight flickered in her gaze, her aloofness melting away and replaced by warmth and newfound respect.

I returned her smile, adding a few conversational phrases here and there.

Damian and Serena stared at me, disbelief etched on their faces, as if seeing me for the first time.

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