Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 98

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 98**

**Chapter 98**

**Norah’s POV**

As I stood in the somber atmosphere of Mr. Constantine’s funeral, the weight of sorrow pressed heavily upon us all. Eleanor, clad in a black mourning gown that hung on her like a shroud, appeared ghostly pale, her features drawn tight with grief. The butler, ever the dutiful servant, lent her his arm, guiding her forward as she prepared to deliver her eulogy.

Eleanor began her speech with a nostalgic tone, weaving tales from her past with Mr. Constantine, her voice tinged with genuine affection. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, her demeanor shifted dramatically. “My poor Damian is still lying in the hospital, and my beloved Lucien… I can’t fathom what went wrong, why he would choose this path…” Her words faltered, the emotion overwhelming her as she reached the climax of her sorrow. By the time she finished, her sobs echoed in the stillness, her body trembling as she struggled to maintain her composure.

It was evident that Eleanor’s performance had struck a chord with the attendees, drawing forth their sympathy. Whispers rippled through the crowd, a mixture of pity for Eleanor and outrage directed at Lucien, the man they branded a murderer.

The atmosphere during the post-funeral reception was stifling, a heavy blanket of grief enveloping everyone present. Attendees donned their solemn black attire, the only spark of vibrancy coming from the shimmering champagne flutes that glinted in the dim light. Despite the sorrow etched on Eleanor’s face, a glimmer of triumph danced in her eyes whenever they met mine, a secret delight that she could not mask.

With a wine glass delicately held in her hand, she approached me, her arms opening wide in a gesture of warmth. “Poor child,” she murmured, her voice low and conspiratorial as she leaned in close. “You see, the Constantine men always return to me in the end.” Her words sent a chill down my spine. “The next funeral will be Lucien’s.”

My grip on the wine glass tightened, a slight tremor betraying my unease. Just then, a vivid flash of red sliced through the sea of black—Amélie had arrived, her fiery red spaghetti-strap gown a stark contrast to the mourning attire surrounding her.

Storming towards Eleanor, her face contorted with fury, Amélie confronted her. “Madame Constantine, you used me and left me humiliated in front of Madame DuBois! Did you think someone from the Veyron family is just a pawn to be manipulated at your whim?”

With a sudden movement, Amélie thrust her hand forward, shoving Eleanor, who staggered back, her expression morphing into one of shock and anger. It was likely that Eleanor had never anticipated such public defiance from the daughter of an arms dealer.

But Eleanor quickly masked her fury with a strained smile, one that was more grotesque than tears. “Amélie, darling, this is simply a misunderstanding…”

“Shut up!” Amélie interrupted, her voice sharp and unyielding. She turned to me, her eyes blazing with contempt. “And you, Norah Hawthorne! Just a pathetic orphan with dead parents—how dare you vie for a man? Are you even worthy of such a thing?”

“Whether she’s worthy or not isn’t for you to decide,” came a deep voice from behind me.

Mateo had appeared, wrapping his arms around me possessively, his presence commanding and protective. He cast a cold, disdainful glance at both Amélie and Eleanor, making it clear he would not tolerate their cruelty.

“I warn you,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “anyone who seeks to harm Norah had better prepare themselves.”

Amélie’s face drained of color at his words, while Eleanor regarded Mateo with a mix of apprehension and fear, her silence speaking volumes.

Mateo, undeterred by the prying eyes around us, turned his gaze to me, his expression softening. He extended his hand, a gesture both formal and inviting. “Miss Hawthorne, may I have the honor of this dance?”

The room fell into a hushed silence, all eyes turning to me, awaiting my response. I understood that Mateo was attempting to shield me, but there was also an undeniable pressure in his request, a desire for everyone to witness my allegiance to him.

I glanced at Eleanor, her face a portrait of shock, and then at Amélie, whose expression was filled with resentment. Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand in Mateo’s palm, feeling the warmth radiate from him.

“The honor is mine,” I replied, a small smile breaking through the tension.

Amélie’s lips moved as if to protest, but under Mateo’s fierce gaze, she fell silent, merely shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

As the melodious strains of a waltz filled the air, Mateo led me onto the dance floor, his grip firm yet gentle. “It seems you have quite a few troubles,” he whispered close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

I chose to ignore his teasing, focusing instead on the task at hand. “Create a distraction for me. I need at least ten minutes,” I urged, urgency lacing my voice.

Mateo chuckled softly, the sound rich and inviting. “My fee isn’t cheap,” he teased, tightening his hold around me, pulling me closer. “After this is done, I want a formal date.”

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