THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 110: Memories and work...

Chapter 110: Memories and work...

Just as Angel abruptly walked away in the middle of the conversation, Alex and Blossom shifted their attention elsewhere, heading toward another group engaged in lively discussion.

The moment they joined the conversation, laughter rippled through the air, blending seamlessly with the clinking of glasses and the soft hum of background music.

However, in an instant, the atmosphere shifted—Alex’s expression contorted in discomfort, his breath hitching as he instinctively clutched his chest.

A low, guttural growl escaped his lips, and before anyone could react, the delicate wine glass slipped from his grasp, crashing onto the floor with a sharp, piercing shatter that silenced the entire room.

Every head turned toward him in alarm, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Alex struggling to steady himself.

The sudden commotion reached Tryson’s ears, and the moment he spotted Alex’s distress, he wasted no time, making his way through the crowd and calling out his name with formal urgency.

"Mr. Alex!" His voice carried a mix of concern and authority.

Without hesitation, a few guests scrambled to arrange a seat for Alex, guiding him down gently.

Among the attendees, a doctor stepped forward, swiftly kneeling beside him to assess his condition.

With practiced efficiency, she removed the mask he had been wearing, checking his vitals as a hush fell over the gathering.

As Alex sat there, catching his breath, his gaze flickered toward Tryson, noticing the deep worry etched across his face.

A flicker of amusement, despite the discomfort, passed through Alex’s eyes. He let out a deliberate, almost defiant growl before attempting to speak.

"You all don’t need to fuss over me," he rasped, his voice betraying the pain he was trying so hard to mask. "I’m fine."

His words were meant to be reassuring, but the strained undertone made the concern in the room only deepen.

The doctor, still focused on her assessment, finally pulled back, removing the stethoscope from Alex’s chest. After a brief pause, she gave a small nod of confirmation.

"He’s perfectly fine," she announced, her voice calm but firm. "It’s likely just dizziness or fatigue. If he hasn’t been getting enough rest, this could easily happen."

A wave of relief washed over the onlookers, but Alex’s attention was now on the way everyone had frozen, their focus entirely on him.

With a low chuckle, he exhaled and shook his head.

"Why did the party stop just because I looked a little weak?" He teased, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. "Come on, people! Keep the drinks flowing, keep the music going. I’m a strong man, after all. The only reason I look like this is because Blossom wouldn’t let me sleep a wink with all her endless demands—she’s the queen of the house, after all!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd at his playful remark, the tension dissipating into lighthearted amusement.

Even Blossom, despite having been deeply worried about him just moments ago, found herself pouting in protest at his teasing words.

Tryson, however, still bore traces of unease. His lips parted, and for a brief moment, he nearly let slip a more personal title, his emotions overriding his restraint.

"I’m just glad you’re okay, fath—" He caught himself just in time, forcing the word back and replacing it with a more formal address. "Mr. Alex."

Alex, perceptive as always, noticed the slip but chose not to comment on it.

Instead, he offered Tryson a small nod of understanding before reaching out, placing a firm yet gentle hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

"I’m okay, son," he murmured, his voice quieter but filled with reassurance. "No need to worry."

"Such a drama queen," Blossom murmured with a soft chuckle, though a flicker of concern lingered in her eyes as she observed his demeanor.

One moment, she worried about his attitude, and in the next, the entire crowd erupted into laughter—including Alex, whose laughter rang out the loudest.

Without hesitation, Alex reached for Blossom’s hand, his touch warm and deliberate.

He lifted it gently, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of her hand, his lips curving into a mischievous smile.

"You know I would put on any kind of drama for you, my dear," he murmured, his voice rich with devotion, every syllable laced with an attempt to make her feel cherished.

And it worked.

Blossom felt her heart flutter, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest.

She hated how easily he got to her, how effortlessly he could make her feel special, but in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Alex, watching her reaction, felt a slow, satisfied smile stretch across his lips.

She seemed pleased with his apology—at least for now. But deep down, something else flickered in his gaze, something only he understood. He hadn’t just won her forgiveness. No, he had gained exactly what he wanted.

Then his eyes drifted to the side.

Tryson.

Standing a few feet away, Tryson regarded him with a concerned expression, his stance rigid, his gaze questioning. Alex knew what that look meant.

He could only hope that Arthur had done what he asked.

This was their one shot. There was no room for mistakes.

*

Angel pushed open the restroom door, her movements stiff and hurried. The moment she stepped inside, she braced herself against the cool marble counter, staring at her own reflection in the mirror.

The soft hum of the running water filled the empty space, but she barely noticed.

Then, with a sudden surge of frustration, she slammed her palms against the sink, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Her fingers curled against the cold surface as she fought to steady herself, but the memories came crashing down like an unstoppable tide.

Three years ago.

Her past clawed its way back into her mind, merciless and vivid.

Back then, she had clung to hope, praying that things would somehow turn out alright. But hope had been cruel. Hope had betrayed her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to relive the moment she lost everything—the day she lost her mother.

The memory was sharp, unyielding.

She could still see herself stepping into the hospital, her heart pounding with anticipation, only to be met with a sight she would never forget.

One moment, her mother was there—frail but breathing. And in the next, she was gone.

Angel had been in a hurry that day, rushing through life, believing there would be more time. More chances. More moments.

But there weren’t.

The call had come just as she stepped out of the hospital doors. The words had been simple, final, and soul-crushing.

Her mother was dead.

"Mother..." Angel whispered, her voice barely audible as she exhaled a shaky breath, her hands gripping the counter like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

And just like that, the past swallowed her whole.