LOGINOn the night of her graduation, Annabelle's life spirals out of control after a one-night stand with a stranger in a luxury hotel. Haunted and humiliated, she flees—only to be accused of infidelity by her boyfriend Brian, who breaks her heart by proposing to her stepsister. What Annabelle doesn't know is that the man she ran from is none other than Richard Barton, a ruthless billionaire with a thirst for revenge against the Hamiltons—her family. Years later, Annabelle is forced into becoming Richard’s mistress without realizing he's the man from her past. Richard, too, is unaware that she’s the mysterious woman who left him wanting after that night. When her heartbreaking truth surfaces—that she has a secret son, Alan, battling leukemia—it shatters the walls around Richard’s heart. And the twist? Alan is Richard’s biological child. As Annabelle and Richard begin to repair the pieces of their fractured relationship, enemies lurk in the shadows—Britney, who longs to replace Annabelle in Richard’s life; and Samuel, Annabelle’s father, with his own selfish motives. A vicious trap tears them apart again, forcing Annabelle to leave with her son while carrying Richard’s second child. From painful misunderstandings and ruthless betrayal to secret revelations and hidden family legacies, His Mistress, His Redemption is a rollercoaster of passion, revenge, and healing. In the end, love fights through chaos—but will it win?
View MoreBritney was taken away. Jack, Richard and Annabelle stood there, watching her being dragged off, turning a deaf ear to her screams and desperate pleas.Finally, when the dust settled, the three of them climbed the stairs out of the basement—Richard walking slightly ahead, Annabelle beside him, Jack following slowly with the heaviness of long-buried memories sitting in his chest.Britney’s screams still occasionally echoed faintly behind them, but Annabelle kept her eyes forward.She exhaled quietly.“Richard… what punishment will Britney get?”Richard paused mid-step.He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his head slightly toward Jack.Their gazes met.A small, soft, knowing smile passed between father and son—unspoken understanding, the kind built through shared wounds and a dark past only they could comprehend.Annabelle caught it but didn’t push.Richard finally said, “It’s not the right time. I’ll tell you later.”His tone was calm, almost gentle, but firm enough that A
Britney frowned in confusion when Richard called 'dad.' She wanted to mock him and say 'don't be delusional,' but a thin line of tension with some realisation walked inside her.She was busy getting rid of that thought when a shadow shifted behind Richard.A familiar silhouette stepped into the dim light.Jack?"Out of nowhere-one of the last hidden chess pieces in her game, the trump card she'd guarded for fifteen years-stepped out into the light.The very man she buried from the world... exposed.Her secret, the one she had protected with blood and lies, standing right there.Her breath hitched.Her mind scrambled.How...?How did he crawl out after all these years?How did her perfectly hidden piece get revealed?Jack stood tall, posture firm, eyes locked on her like a ghost she prayed never to face again.And then-slowly, deliberately-he smirked.Britney's throat closed. Her grip on the bars loosened. For the first time since being thrown into this basement, fear crawled up her sp
Richard barked out a hollow laugh. “So she raised me like a son… so she could steal everything later.”Jack nodded once.Richard dragged a hand over his face, then looked at his father—broken, furious, and grieving all at once.“This whole time,” he whispered. “While I mourned you… while I worshipped her as Mom’s sister…” His voice shook. “She played us like chess pieces.”Annabelle stepped closer, resting a hand briefly on his arm. “Richard…”He didn’t move.His voice was low, dangerous, trembling with a fury he had never allowed himself to feel.“She’s going to pay for this.”And this time, there was no room for doubt in his tone.“Sure, she will. We have all the time in hand, right?” Annabelle said, patting Richard’s shoulder.Richard got what she was referring to. His jaw tightened, fists curling at his sides. He drew a deep breath, trying to tame the storm of anger building inside him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, sharp, and heavy with controlled fury.“Let’s go, Dad
For a moment, neither Richard nor Jack moved. The air in the mansion felt too tight, too heavy. Jack’s eyes glistened—years of loss, pain, disbelief, and a kind of hesitant hope swirling together. Richard’s breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling like he’d just been punched.Jack took a small step forward. Just one.Richard’s throat bobbed. Then another step. And finally—he closed the distance, slow and trembling.Annabelle sensed the storm building and gently reached for Alan, easing him out of Jack’s arms. The little boy protested with a small whine, but she shushed him softly, pulling him close.“Let them have a moment,” she whispered into Alan’s hair, her voice breaking just a little.Jack lifted a hand shaking, unsteady—as if afraid Richard might vanish if he blinked. His lips quivered, emotions pouring out of him through his eyes alone.Richard stared at him like a man seeing a ghost. “I… I don’t—” His voice cracked. The ruthless, iron-hearted mafia king sounded like a c
“I know what she wants,” Richard said, voice low and edged like broken glass. “And I think she knows a hell of a lot more than she’s saying.”Jordan’s brow furrowed. “You think Hazel—?”Richard nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “Yeah… it feels like she’s hiding something.” He looked up at Jordan,
After barking orders left and right, Richard still couldn't sit still. His world - normally measured, controlled, ruthless - felt like it was slipping through his fingers. A man who once ruled chaos now stood swallowed by it. For years, people called him heartless, a machine in human skin. They wer
Richard pressed his palm to his forehead until stars exploded. “Who was she calling?”“I’m on it.” Alvarez had already anticipated it. “Tagging communications. I’ll have the number.”Marc lingered near the monitors, jaw tight, as the last seconds of footage replayed—Annabelle slipping through the d
The engines of the private jet purred softly across the tarmac, gleaming beneath the mellow afternoon sun. Annabelle stood at the bottom of the steps, one hand instinctively brushing over her flat stomach — still hard to believe that somewhere deep inside, a tiny heartbeat had just begun.“Easy the
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