All Chapters of The Billionaire I Met On My Worst Night : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The Stewart mansion felt entirely different that evening. The quiet, sprawling elegance of the house seemed to vibrate with a new, unspoken energy. Charlotte sat curled up in the corner of the plush living room sofa, her phone pressed to her ear. She was still riding the euphoric high from the hospital, a smile practically permanently etched onto her face. "I'm telling you, Nancy, I thought I was hallucinating," Charlotte laughed into the receiver. "But the doctor pointed right at the screen. Two heartbeats. We are having twins."A loud gasp echoed through the speaker, followed immediately by a squeal that forced Charlotte to pull the phone slightly away from her ear. "Twins?! Charlotte, oh my god!" Nancy’s voice was bright with shock and absolute delight. "That is incredible! Wait, how did Edward react? Please tell me the city's most terrifying billionaire actually short-circuited.""He dropped to one knee right there in the examination room," Charlotte admitted, her voice soften

For the first time in weeks, Charlotte woke before her alarm, and the room wasn't spinning.The heavy fatigue that had defined much of her first trimester seemed to have eased. In its place was a welcome sense of energy.Morning sunlight spilled across the massive bed in the Stewart mansion, illuminating Edward, who was already awake and watching her."You slept well," he said, his voice low in the quiet room.Charlotte stretched, a genuine smile spreading across her face."I feel wonderful. The nausea is actually gone today."Edward reached out and rested his hand gently over her stomach."You still need to take it easy. The doctor said the second trimester usually brings more energy, but you're carrying twins, Charlotte. Your body is doing twice the work."Charlotte rolled toward him and rested her head against his chest."Edward Stewart, are you going to treat me like I'm made of spun glass for the next six months?""If necessary."She laughed softly. "You're impossible.""I've acc

The two printed documents lay side by side on Mathew Morgan's cluttered desk.With a magnifying glass in hand, the investigative journalist scrutinized the formatting, department references, dates, and digital signatures. To his trained eye, both the initial memo and the subsequent requisition form appeared flawless. They carried the distinct internal language of Morrison Gallery.But Mathew knew that in an age of sophisticated digital forgery, documents alone were never enough to support a story of this magnitude.If he published them and they turned out to be elaborate fakes, Edward Stewart had enough lawyers to bury a journalist in litigation for years.He needed a human being.He needed someone who had been inside Morrison Gallery five years ago, someone who could confirm whether the alleged concerns about The Veiled Horizon had ever actually existed.Mathew turned to his monitors and began studying Morrison Gallery's organizational structure from the time of the acquisition.He c

Mathew Morgan sat in his office, the glow of his monitors reflecting in his tired eyes. The publication of his first article had sent shockwaves through the art world, but for an investigative journalist, a trending headline wasn't the finish line. It was just the beginning. He had already established the foundation: the five-year provenance gap, the unusual valuation history, Marcus Thorne’s cautious testimony, and the anonymous internal documents. But Mathew needed to know exactly what had happened inside Morrison Gallery during the specific window when the acquisition was finalized. He needed to know what happened after Marcus had been shut out. Bypassing the noise on social media, Mathew spent the morning quietly digging through old staff records, cross-referencing acquisition logs, and pulling archived employment information. After three hours, he found a promising lead—a former senior acquisitions associate who had worked at the gallery during the exact month The Veiled Horiz

The silence of the bedroom was shattered by the relentless ringing of their phones.Edward lowered Charlotte’s phone onto the mattress, his expression hardening as another notification appeared on the screen.Charlotte reached for it, her stomach tightening as she saw the flood of messages, missed calls, and breaking-news alerts.“They're already reacting,” Edward said.Before Charlotte could answer, Edward’s phone began to ring.Kevin.At almost the same moment, Charlotte’s phone lit up again.David.She answered immediately and put the call on speaker.“Charlotte, it’s a nightmare down here,” David said, his voice strained over the sound of ringing phones in the background. “There are reporters outside the gallery. The staff is panicking. Two of our biggest collectors have already contacted us about whether the winter exhibition is still moving forward, and another wants to know if his upcoming purchase could be affected by the allegations.”Charlotte sat up straighter.“Tell every