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The Invisible Cage
Last Updated:
2025-08-08 17:20:10
Latest chapter
The Billionaire's Forgotten Night His Rules, Her Rebellion
"What?"Annabelle wasn't just shocked—she was gutted. Disappointed beyond words. She had been banking on that one window of freedom to slip away and maybe figure out a way to escape from this twisted setup. But it slammed shut before she even had the chance to peek through.Richard turned with that same devil-may-care smirk carved across his irritatingly handsome face. He shot a knowing glance between Marc and Annabelle, clearly basking in her dismay like it was his favorite show on TV."Good job, Marc. If Miss Hamilton needs anything else, take care of it. I wouldn't want my personal maid to face any inconvenience," Richard said coolly before striding towards the inner door of the study. His voice dripped with amusement, and his parting glare made Annabelle want to throw something.Inside his room, Richard peeled off his shirt, changed into loungewear, and collapsed back onto the bed, head resting on the bedpost. That insufferable smirk still lingered on his face."Miss Hamilton," he
The Billionaire's Forgotten Night The Invisible Cage
Annabelle stepped into the room, her eyes landing on Richard—seated as usual behind his oversized desk—and Marc standing to his right like a loyal second-in-command.Strangely enough, she felt a flicker of relief seeing Marc there. Facing Richard Barton alone was like walking into a lion's den blindfolded.So he really was waiting for me? That means he told the guards to block me from leaving on purpose? Seriously, what now?The thought made her blood boil again. She clenched her jaw and marched forward."Mr. Barton, what's the meaning of this?" she snapped, voice firm but not loud. "Why weren't the guards letting me leave? I know damn well it was your order, so why don't you cut the act and explain? What exactly are you trying to pull?"Marc flinched internally. That tone. Again. He jumped in immediately, trying to douse the flames. "Miss Hamilton, maybe just... lower your tone? Speak respectfully?"Richard shot Marc a look—half warning, half amusement—and then turned back to Annabel
The Billionaire's Forgotten Night Obsession Reloaded
SMASH.A loud crash of breaking glass echoed through the top floor of the mansion.Another set of fine cutlery had just met its tragic fate—shattered against the wall, another victim of Richard Barton's short fuse.No one flinched. Not the maids, not the guards, not even the butler. This wasn't new. Richard's temper tantrums were practically part of the decor at this point.Except for Marc.He knew something was off today. Richard wasn't just angry—he was on edge, pacing like a lion in a cage. And for what? Marc had a pretty solid guess: Annabelle.Yep. It all started the moment Lily said Annabelle had gone to her university after finishing her morning tasks.Marc sighed and headed up to the master bedroom.The scene in Richard's room was pure chaos. A coffee mug lay shattered near the opposite wall, a crime scene in ceramic. Pillows were scattered all over, like a mini tornado had whipped through. And there stood Richard—hands on hips, his back rigid, facing away from the door.Richa
The Billionaire's Forgotten Night A Ghost Named Annabelle
Julia was always smug about being the only woman allowed near Richard Barton. In her head, she wasn't just another employee—she was the woman in his life. His right hand. His not-so-secret favorite. It was every other woman's fantasy in the city to be close to Richard, and she was living it.She was convinced that beneath that cold, gruff exterior, Richard had a soft spot for her. He just didn't know how to show it—too uptight, too stoic. But one day, he'd crack, and she'd be right there to catch him. She could already see it: his eyes dark with want, his voice low with confession. All in due time.But that delusion got a hard slap when Richard handed her a bizarre order himself, bypassing Marc, his usual go-to guy.Set up a girl.Julia blinked. A girl?Who the hell is she? And why the hell is Richard interested in her?It wasn't just the task that made Julia squirm, it was the way he said it—curt, final, no room for questions. She couldn't even get a name out of him.Later, she found
The Billionaire's Forgotten Night Fabricated Shame
Classic Eggs Benedict, English scrambled eggs with spinach and bacon, toast, almond milk cappuccino, waffles served with maple syrup and honey, and chilled apple juice.When Richard walked into the dining room, his sharp eyes quickly scanned the spread. For a moment, the ever-composed billionaire paused. Everything—each item he'd listed earlier—was already perfectly prepared and plated. It was exactly to his taste. He wouldn't say it aloud, of course. Compliments weren't his thing. In his world, doing your job wasn't praise-worthy—it was expected.Still, he couldn't ignore the fact that the new girl, Annabelle Hamilton, had pulled it off.But where the hell was she?His brow furrowed. Being his personal maid meant being present at the table when he ate, anticipating his every move. Was she already slacking?Just as he prepared a punishment in his mind for her absence, she walked in.And the moment Richard Barton saw her, his steps faltered.Annabelle was dressed in the maid's uniform—
The Billionaire's Forgotten Night Terms of Submission
Late at NightAnnabelle lay wide awake, glaring at the ceiling like it had all the answers. She sighed deeply, the weight of the day sitting on her chest like a pile of bricks. Starting tomorrow, she wouldn't be heading to the Grand Hayat. Nope. Instead, she'd be stepping into some monster-sized mansion to work for none other than Richard freaking Barton—as his personal maid.What the hell had she gotten herself into?She'd let her temper do the talking back at the hotel. The guy had poked her sore spot, and instead of staying calm, she'd blown a fuse and agreed to his ridiculous terms. Now here she was, mentally banging her head against a wall. What really rattled her cage was—how in God's name did Richard Barton know about her past? Her roots in Vegas, her family, her real identity? She hadn't breathed a word to a soul.Too late now. What was done was done. No use crying over spilled milk.But sleep? Forget about it.Every time she shut her eyes, Richard's smug face flashed before h
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