All Chapters of The Billionaire's Forgotten Night: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Richard's mouth crashed onto Annabelle's — hard, possessive, unrelenting. It wasn’t a kiss meant to be gentle; it was raw, punishing, like weeks of anger and longing pouring out all at once.Annabelle’s hands pressed weakly against his chest, torn between pushing him away and holding on. The heat of him, the scent of his cologne, the taste of something she’d tried so hard to forget — it all came rushing back, too fast, too much.When he finally pulled back, their breaths tangled in the heavy silence. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, eyes burning with a mix of fury and desire.She leaned slowly against the door, the winter wind from the cracked window cutting through the room, tugging at her hair and brushing her face. Richard lingered, close enough that the heat between them was suffocating, one hand pressed near her shoulder, the other flexing at his side. He shifted slightly, dragging a foot along the floor, leaning just enough to close any space left between them — a pred

Richard had been living in a strange mix of heaven and hell lately — heaven, because his wife looked impossibly cute with every new mood swing, and hell, because those same mood swings kept him running marathons at ungodly hours. From foot massages to late-night ice cream hunts, he’d mastered the art of coaxing and pampering his adorably unpredictable wife.Now, after completing yet another “mission impossible,” Richard drove back home with the triumphant exhaustion of a man who’d just conquered Everest. One hand gripped the steering wheel, the other clutched the warm takeaway bag like a medal of honor.Thirty-five minutes later, he pulled up at the mansion, clutching the steaming bag like it was a national treasure. He sprinted upstairs, skipping two steps at a time, heart pounding—only to stop dead at the bedroom door.Annabelle was fast asleep, hugging a pillow, her breathing soft and even.Richard let out a long, helpless sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” he whispered, setting

“I specifically told you I want everything just like the mansion,” Annabelle said, voice sharp.Richard crossed his arms, eyebrow raised. “Wait a sec—if you wanted everything just like the mansion, why the sudden move to a tiny place?”Annabelle huffed, hands on her hips. “Because I’m done with giant, echoing halls. I want cozy, not colossal.”He smirked, shaking his head. “Cozy? Sure—but the kitchen? It’s barely big enough to swing a cat. You’re gonna curse me every time we cook.”Lily and Sebastian exchanged nervous glances, sensing the heat. Seb jumped in, voice careful, “Honestly, this kitchen’s way more practical. Everything’s right at arm’s length. The mansion’s was a marathon.”“Yeah,” Lily added, nodding. “And the colors? The vibe? Pretty much a mini replica of the mansion’s.”Annabelle puffed her cheeks, glaring at Richard. “Fine. I’m letting it slide—for them,” she muttered, voice dripping with fake patience. Then she spun on her heel and stalked out.Richard smothered a gri

“Jack Barton?” she whispered, barely hearing her own voice.Annabelle’s fingers trembled; her throat turned dry as dust.The name rang in her ears, echoing over the faint, desperate cry spilling from the ward.Inside, the man’s voice rose again—hoarse, pleading. “Call my son! Richard Barton! He’ll know me—he has to! I’m not crazy!”Annabelle’s pulse quickened. Whatever she had just stumbled into wasn’t hospital gossip anymore—it was something darker, something buried clawing its way to the surface.“Tell my son I’m not insane!”She stood frozen in the middle of the corridor, breath shallow, the chaos around her fading into a distant hum. Jack Barton, father of Richard Barton. She repeated the name again and again inside her head, as if testing her sanity—making sure her ears hadn’t betrayed her.With a fresh new realisation, the sounds around her blurred—the shuffling of nurses, the murmur of gossip, the distant ringing of a nurse’s phone. It all dimmed into a hollow hum. Her pulse th

The air seemed to thicken instantly. Hazel froze, her mouth parting slightly as her eyes darted to Annabelle.Annabelle’s expression didn’t change right away, but her pulse quickened beneath her calm facade. Her lips pressed into a tight line as her mind raced.Britney White.Of course.Hazel let out a low whistle. “Well, damn. Didn’t see that name coming.”Annabelle’s voice was quiet, but there was a storm brewing beneath it. “Neither did I.”As they continued down the hall toward the east wing, the sterile lights buzzed overhead, and Annabelle’s thoughts swirled like a dark tide.If Britney had been visiting that man… then this wasn’t just about a forgotten patient.Was this another one of her traps? Annabelle’s pulse quickened, her mind piecing the puzzle together. It made a chilling kind of sense. Maybe Britney had planted someone to pose as Richard’s father—another pawn in her twisted game to stir chaos from the shadows. Her visits weren’t about compassion; they were calculated m