All Chapters of The Billionaire's Forgotten Night: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Richard sat down slowly on the couch beside Annabelle’s bed, still holding Alan in his lap. The boy nestled against him comfortably, small hands clutching his shirt, while his wide eyes stayed glued to his unconscious mother.For a while, neither of them spoke. The steady beeping of the monitor filled the silence, punctuated only by Alan’s soft breaths. Richard glanced at Annabelle — her pale, fragile face — and guilt gnawed at his chest like a vice.After a long pause, Alan finally whispered, his voice trembling, “Dad… why isn’t Mommy waking up? She’s been sleeping for so long.”Richard’s throat tightened at the word “Dad,” but he steadied himself and stroked Alan’s soft hair. “She’s resting, champ,” he said quietly, forcing calm into his tone. “The doctors are helping her get better. But…” His jaw clenched, guilt flashing across his face. “She got hurt because I failed her.”Alan blinked up at him, confused. “Failed her? What do you mean?”Richard’s jaw tightened as he struggled to

Richard stood at the far end of the corridor, his tall frame silhouetted against the sprawling glass wall. Beyond it, the city lights bled into the night sky, blurred like a painting he couldn’t focus on. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tense, jaw locked tight.Marc approached slowly, his footsteps echoing faintly against the sterile tiles. He hesitated a beat before speaking, his voice low but edged with frustration.“Boss… why the hell didn’t you tell Miss Hamilton the truth?” Marc’s brows furrowed as he stepped closer, searching Richard’s unreadable profile. “You were the one who stormed the warehouse that night. You were the one who made Abigail confess to every twisted thing she pulled on Annabelle. Hell, you punished those bastards yourself — those goons who laid a hand on her can barely hold a spoon now. You did all of this for her!”Richard didn’t move at first, his gaze fixed on the flickering skyline. His reflection in the glass looked cold, almost gho

“I… won’t, Richard.” The words came out soft, almost fragile — yet the finality in them hit Richard like a blow.Richard’s hand tightened slightly around the velvet box, his knuckles pale against the soft fabric. He stared at her for a long moment, his usually sharp gaze unreadable, almost too calm.“Why, Anna?” His voice was low, steady — but beneath that calm, there was a storm brewing. “Why are you saying no?”Annabelle’s breath caught, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Because…” She hesitated, searching for the right words before finally whispering, “I don’t want to get into another relationship. And with you, Richard Barton… that’s out of the question.”His jaw flexed. “Out of the question?” he repeated, almost like he was testing the taste of the words. “Why not me? Am I really that bad?”She gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “I think you know the answer better than I do.”Richard’s gaze darkened, his voice dropping lower. “Because I’m a mafia king, huh?”Annabelle’s lips pres

Alan bounced on his toes, eyes sparkling. "Mom, can we all sleep together tonight? You on one side, Dad on the other, me in the middle-like a real family!"Annabelle froze, caught completely off guard. Her mouth parted, ready to stammer a refusal, but Richard's deep voice cut smoothly in."Why not?" he said, his tone light but his gaze locked on hers, daring her to object.Annabelle's pulse skipped. For a dizzying second, she wondered if she'd gone mad-had Richard Barton, the same ruthless man who once cornered her with his power, just agreed to share something so... domestic?Her suspicion flared instantly. He can't be serious. Is this some twisted move to use Alan as leverage?Richard crouched to Alan's height, his tone soft but steady. "Buddy, this bed's too small for the three of us, don't you think it'll get a bit cramped? Unless..." he paused, drawing it out with a little grin, "we move to another room with a bigger bed. But then you won't get to sleep in your own racing car bed

Annabelle drew a breath, her voice low but steady. “Richard… for Alan’s sake, I want us to try. I can’t erase the past, but I can learn to move on and live better for the future. For him… and maybe for us too.”The words slipped out, plain and unpolished, but they carried the weight of her heart.For a long while, Richard said nothing. His hand brushed against Annabelle’s, but his gaze had drifted to the fountain, as though the water itself could give him courage. The silence stretched, heavy, until Annabelle finally whispered, her chest tight, “Richard… say something.”He drew in a slow breath, shoulders stiff. When his eyes finally met hers, there was no arrogance, no smug curve of his mouth—just a raw honesty that made her stomach flip.“I feel the same,” he said, his voice low and steady. “For Alan. And for you. I want this… us. But there’s something you don’t know. Something I should’ve told you long ago.”Annabelle’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”His jaw worked, a