All Chapters of The Billionaire's Forgotten Night: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Friday morning bled gold across the Vegas skyline as Annabelle tugged her coat tighter around her shoulders, the desert air deceptively crisp. Her flight had landed an hour ago, yet her pulse still hadn’t slowed from the storm brewing inside her. She flagged a cab outside McCarran, sliding into the back seat with a clipped, “Mathews’ office, downtown.”The cabbie didn’t bother with small talk; she was grateful. Her thoughts were loud enough.By the time the car pulled to the curb outside the sandstone high-rise, Annabelle’s jaw ached from how tightly she’d been clenching it. She pushed out a breath, grabbed her handbag, and marched into the building.Mathews’ assistant, a trim brunette in a beige blazer, ushered her inside with the kind of brisk politeness that screamed law firm efficiency. “Mr. Mathews will see you now. Coffee?”Annabelle managed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Sure. Black.”When she entered the wood-paneled office, Mathews was already waiting. The old lawyer, w

Annabelle stepped out of the cab, heels clicking against the cobblestone driveway as her eyes lifted toward the looming Hamilton mansion. The old house towered before her in pristine arrogance, its white columns and glass-paneled windows gleaming in the morning sun as though it had nothing to hide.But for Annabelle, the shine was all smoke and mirrors.Memories crowded in fast—some tender, some jagged. Her mother’s laughter echoing down these halls, warm hands guiding her through the garden, bedtime stories whispered against her hair. A few faint flickers of her father, softer times before the fractures.And then the nightmare years.Unstoppable bully.Abigail’s cruelty masked behind crocodile tears. Lies whispered into Sophia’s ears that painted Annabelle the villain. Samuel’s cold punishments, blind to truth, deaf to her pleas. Every day a battlefield, every night a prison.Her lips curved, not in a smile but in a razor-thin edge of resolve. She whispered to herself, each word deli

Abigail's wrist trembled under Annabelle's iron grip, her face twisting with rage before the words tore out of her throat like claws."You bitch!" she screamed, spit flying. "I ended up like this because of you! Richard—he's inhumane, a monster! He destroyed me for you. It's all because of you!"Annabelle tilted her head, her smirk cutting deeper than any blade. Her voice dripped with poison. "Oh really? When you already knew Richard wasn't someone you could provoke, who told you to play with fire? Who forced you to poke the beast, Abigail? Don't act clueless—you damn well knew his feelings for me."The words landed like a slap harder than any hand could manage. Abigail froze, breath ragged, her chest rising and falling like she'd run a marathon. Her nostrils flared, eyes bulging in disbelief."You... you knew?" she choked out, her voice breaking into a screech. "You knew all along that Richard had feelings for you—yet you let me humiliate you, bully you, trample you deliberately?"An

Night draped itself over the outskirts like a shroud.Inside a cramped, rented room that smelled of dust, cheap liquor, and old betrayal, Samuel Hamilton’s world had shrunk to the size of his rage.The man who once strutted through marble halls now sat hunched over a cracked table, sleeves rolled up, veins standing like cords beneath his skin. The sound of his cane tapping the floor—slow, rhythmic—filled the silence like a ticking bomb.Sophia sat in the corner, her face blotched and swollen from hours of crying. “We were kicked out,” she said again, voice breaking, as though saying it enough times might undo it. “She threw us out like dogs, Samuel! How could she?”“How?” Samuel’s laugh was a jagged thing. “Because I raised a viper. Because I let her inherit that woman’s cunning.” He spat the last word, his lips curling as though even the memory of Angela burned his tongue.Sophia rose, pacing. “You need to fix this. You can’t just sit here while she parades around that mansion, renam

Samuel’s laugh bounced off the cheap wallpaper, hollow and too loud for the shabby hotel room. A bottle rolled in the corner where the three of them had been celebrating with the kind of small champagne that tried too hard. The air still smelled faintly of smoke and triumph.“To hell with propriety,” Samuel declared, slapping his knee. “We showed her. We showed them all. Once the smoke settles, nothing left standing will remember Annabelle’s name. It’s ours again—every last damn thing.”Sophia clapped her hands like a woman who’d just won something very expensive. Abigail, perched on the edge of the bed with a silk scarf around her neck, tossed her hair and laughed, the sound brittle and high. “Finally,” she sighed, “no more cheap charity dinners pretending we’re down on our luck. I can buy new bags without worrying what people think.”Samuel puffed out his chest. The three of them fed on each other’s venom, intoxicated by the illusion that the world could be burned down and rebuilt w