Semua Bab The Billionaire's Forgotten Night: Bab 31 - Bab 40

The mansion felt unnervingly quiet without Richard. Annabelle told herself she liked it that way — no heavy footsteps echoing down the hall, no sharp voice calling her name as if summoning an employee. And yet, every morning, something seemed… off.She was pouring coffee in the kitchen when her hand automatically reached for a second cup. Half-filled, she froze, staring at it as if it had betrayed her. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, quickly tipping it into the sink.His cologne still lingered faintly on a jacket draped over the back of a chair in the study. She tried not to notice. Tried not to remember the way his presence seemed to fill every room. Even his empty chair at breakfast felt like it was silently mocking her.“Why on earth would I miss that arrogant man?” she whispered to herself, shaking her head. But the way her eyes kept flicking toward the door every time footsteps sounded in the hall told a different story.Perhaps, somewhere far away, he was just as distract

Britney raised her arm to slap the maid for talking back, but stopped mid-swing when Annabelle’s hand clamped around her wrist—firm but not cruel.Britney yanked against the grip. “Who the hell are you to interrupt me? Do you know who I am?”“I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England,” Annabelle said coldly. “Employer or not, you don’t touch your staff.”Britney tore free, eyes glinting. “Well, the tramp speaks. In my nephew’s house, you’re nothing but his… entertainment. Annabelle Hamilton, the kept woman.”A sharp ripple went through the watching staff. Several glanced at each other, the air thick with awkward realization—so the “girlfriend” they’d assumed she was… wasn’t.Annabelle felt their eyes, the heat of embarrassment licking at her cheeks. But she straightened her spine, forcing her voice calm. “If you raised him, Miss White, perhaps that explains why he thinks it’s acceptable to blackmail me into this farce of a relationship. Upbringing shows, after all.”Britney’s face t

Annabelle’s heels clicked down the stark corridor, but her steps slowed when she spotted Hazel standing stiffly by the ICU viewing window.Hazel’s arms were folded, her chin dipped, her gaze fixed through the glass.Annabelle quickened, then slowed again—something in Hazel’s stillness rooted her feet. She moved to stand beside her without a word.Inside, under the dim hospital light, Alan lay curled beneath a pale-blue comforter far too big for his small frame. His skin was pale as paper, a tiny knit cap pulled low over his head, with only wisps of soft brown hair peeking out. The IV line snaked into his arm, the slow drip feeding the blood he needed to keep going.Annabelle’s hands twitched at her sides. She wanted to push open that door, feel his forehead, run her fingers through his hair, whisper that Mama was here. But until the transfusion finished, all she could do was watch.Her eyes burned, and she pressed her lips together until they trembled.“You’re late,” Hazel murmured, n

A Few Days LaterAnnabelle sat on the edge of her bed, legs drawn up, the early morning light spilling across the polished floor in a pale wash. The Barton mansion felt quieter than usual—a strange, hollow quiet. Britney’s absence should have made it easier to breathe, but instead, it left an odd heaviness hanging in the air.Richard hadn’t been home in days.Marc had only sent a curt message: He’s tied up with something important. No details. No reassurance. Just the sort of vagueness that gnawed at her patience.She tried—God, she tried—not to think about him, but the harder she fought it, the more her thoughts strayed to the sound of his voice, the way it had shifted the other day, laced with that reluctant thread of concern. And the more she thought about him, the more it clashed with the frustration already boiling inside her over Alan.Her son. Her baby. The only reason she’d even risked going near the hospital in the first place.Hazel had called that morning, her voice tight.

Annabelle ended the call with a trembling hand, her phone slipping onto the dresser with a muted thud. Hazel’s words still rang in her head, each syllable a fresh sting. Richard’s name sat in her chest like a shard of glass she couldn’t pull free.The door swung open without so much as a knock. Annabelle’s frown deepened the instant she saw Abigail step in, all smug poise and silent claim over the air in the room. Bitterness welled up in her throat like bile.“Well, well…” Abigail drawled, lips curling into a predatory smile. “That was quite the performance downstairs. Richard looked so worried—honestly, it was almost cute.”Annabelle’s jaw tightened. “What do you want?”Abigail’s eyes glittered. “Oh, nothing…” she said airily, strolling into the room like she owned it. “Just thought you might need some sisterly comfort. Also, I’m here to give you your marching orders—pack up and move out.”Annabelle’s brows lifted in disbelief. “Order me?”“Of course,” Abigail said, feigning innocenc