Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 93

Chapter 93

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CAZ

a Pearls

Lucien’s POV

The heavy oak door clicked shut. The sound cut through the sudden silence. Sharp. Final.

My father’s cursing stopped mid–word. The room felt heavy. Thick with dust and old secrets.

It smelled of aged paper and polished wood. Underneath, something fouler lingered. Like decay. Like lies.

Weak light pushed through the thick velvet curtains. Dust motes danced in the slanted beams.

He sat slumped in his wheelchair. A broken puppet. Strings cut.

His head lolled to the side. Eyes empty. Unseeing. A thin line of spit slid from the corner of his slack mouth down to his chin.

Pathetic. A tool. Controlled by a woman’s hand.

Disgust twisted in my gut. I turned my back on him.

My footsteps echoed on the parquet floor. The room was too large. Too quiet.

I faced the giant bookshelf. It dominated the wall. Dark wood. Imposing.

A hazy memory surfaced. A game. A secret hidden long ago.

I reached up. My fingers brushed against dusty leather spines. I felt along the top shelf, past legal codes and histories.

Then I found it. A small, cool metal switch. Tucked deep in the shadows.

Click.

A soft, precise sound. A section of the shelf swung inward. Fake law books gave way.

Behind lay a hidden compartment. Inside sat a single object: a thick photo album. Leather cover worn smooth from handling.

I lifted it out. Dust puffed into the air. I blew it away. My hands trembled slightly, but I forced them still.

I opened the album. The first page crackled softly.

There she was. My mother. Katharine.

11:00 Thu, Nov 27

Chapter 93

She wore a simple white dress. Smiling. Warm. Radiant. Alive.

She leaned against my father. His arm around her waist. Her eyes held a look of pure, unguarded love. Happy. Content.

Nothing like the whore he’d described.

A sharp, aching tightness seized my chest.

Creeak.

The study door swung open. Eleanor stood there. A glass of blood–red wine in her hand.

Her eyes fell on the open album in my hands. A sharp, predatory smile touched her lips.

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“Looking for ghosts, Lucien?” Her voice was smooth as silk. Poisonous. “Searching for your mother? Let me save you the trouble. I’ll tell you the real story.”

She stepped into the room. The wine glinted darkly in the dim light. She set the glass on the desk with a clear, sharp click.

She moved to the desk’s bottom drawer–the hidden safe. A few quick, practiced turns of the combination lock. She pulled out a thin, yellowed file.

She slid it across the polished wood toward me. “Your mother didn’t just vanish. She was a thief. She embezzled a fortune from the company. When she was about to be caught, she ran like a coward.”

Her eyes watched me. Hungry. Waiting for a crack in my armor.

She pushed another paper forward. A printed confession letter. A signature. A smudged thumbprint.

“Don’t believe me? See for yourself. Official police report. Her signed confession. It’s all here. Irrefutable.”

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I kept my breathing even. My hands steady as I took the papers. My face showed nothing. A mask of calm.

I read fast. Key phrases leaped out.

Embezzlement. Falsifying accounts. Absconding from justice.

The report looked perfect. Seamless. But I knew better.

My mother’s signature… it was close. Very close. But she always slanted her letters upward, to

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11:00 Thu, Nov 27

Chapter 93

the right, with a hopeful flourish. This one curved downward. To the left. Defeated.

A forgery.

Inside, a fierce triumph surged. I had her. But outside, I let pain show.

+ Pearle

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