Semua Bab The Billionaire's Forgotten Night: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Three Years LaterOn a pitch-black night, thunder rolled across the New York City skyline, accompanied by streaks of silver lightning tearing through the gloomy clouds. Rain poured heavily, soaking the nearly deserted streets. Annabelle, with one hand gripping her worn umbrella and the other clutching her faded handbag, hurried through the storm. The moon peeked now and then through the dense clouds, providing the dimmest glow to guide her path. Streetlights flickered unreliably, casting eerie shadows that danced on the wet pavement.She quickened her pace. Her shoes squished with each step on the waterlogged sidewalk. She was already late—so late that she had missed the last bus, leaving her with no choice but to walk home. Shivering and muttering prayers under her breath for courage and safety, she crossed an empty road, ignoring the red traffic light. The streets were deserted; there was no soul in sight, only the wrath of nature howling around her.Suddenly, a flash of lightning l

"Oh shit..."Annabelle mumbled under her breath as her face drained of all color. Slowly, she looked up—and met the death glare of her boss.Richard Barton's eyes were locked on her like a loaded gun. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and with every passing second, his expression grew darker—like a brewing storm ready to explode.Everyone around the table sat frozen, like statues. Fear hung in the air thicker than smoke. Some exchanged horrified glances; others stared at their plates as if praying they'd disappear into them.Richard pushed back his chair with a screech that made everyone flinch, and stood to his full towering height, practically radiating rage. The rest of the table scrambled to their feet—because let's face it, who'd dare sit when the devil himself was up and fuming?Annabelle dropped her head, her heart drumming like a rock concert in her chest. Her sweaty palms clutched the sides of her skirt as she waited, bracing for impact.Any second now, she was sure she'

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

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

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