THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 114: Relay to the boss...

Chapter 114: Relay to the boss...

On the other side stood two men, impeccably dressed to blend in with the occasion, their presence cold and efficient.

Between them was a small trolley, and atop it lay a large sack—the very thing they would use to transport Angel.

With swift precision, they carefully placed Angel inside, securing the sack tightly.

The next step was simple.

It was time to take her exactly where they needed her to be.

And nothing—not even Tryson—was going to stop them.

*

Sophia lay sprawled on the cold, hard floor, her once-vibrant complexion now ghostly pale. Her head rested limply against the ground, her face tilted upward toward the ceiling, as if she were gazing at something unseen.

But her eyes remained closed, her body eerily still, her silence deafening.

The air in the dimly lit room grew heavier, thick with an unspoken tension as the men stationed outside—tasked with ensuring everything remained under control—began to exchange uneasy glances.

At first, they dismissed it as another one of her desperate tricks.

After all, she had been wailing in distress not long ago. But as the minutes stretched on, and no sound escaped her lips, doubt began to creep in.

When they finally unbolted the door and stepped inside, the sight before them was unsettling—Sophia, lifelessly sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

Without hesitation, one of the men rushed forward, crouching beside her. His fingers barely brushed against her skin before he recoiled, his brows furrowing.

"She’s burning up," he murmured, his voice tinged with concern.

The others gathered around, their unease intensifying. One of them, a man of sturdy build with an air of authority, spoke up.

"We need to inform the boss."

He reached for his phone, dialing swiftly, his expression hardening as the call rang endlessly without an answer. The silence from the other end only heightened the tension in the room.

Their gazes returned to Sophia—motionless, fragile, vulnerable.

They couldn’t afford to let this escalate into something beyond their control. Allowing her to die on their watch would be an unforgivable mistake.

"We don’t have a choice," the leader finally said. "Call the doctor."

It didn’t take long before the doctor arrived. They had moved Sophia onto the couch, her weak form resting limply against the cushions as the doctor carefully examined her.

The men stood in rigid silence, waiting, their patience hanging by a thread.

After a few moments, the doctor exhaled softly before delivering his assessment. "Judging by her symptoms, it appears she’s experiencing this due to pregnancy. Of course, I’d advise a proper examination at the hospital to confirm—"

The leader abruptly raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. "That won’t be necessary," he interjected coolly. "We’ll handle it from here."

Without another word, he gestured toward the door. The other men understood instantly. Within moments, the doctor was ushered out of the room, his presence no longer required.

As the door clicked shut, the leader let out a slow, measured sigh, his eyes drifting back to the woman lying helplessly before him. She looked so fragile, so defenseless. For a fleeting moment, something unfamiliar stirred within him—guilt?

Pity?

"Boss," one of his men finally spoke, breaking the silence. "What do we do now?"

The leader’s jaw tightened. His voice was quiet, yet resolute. "We have to inform him."

There was a pause, a shared understanding passing between them before he continued, almost to himself, "It’s shocking to think that Mr. Arthur would allow his own wife to reach such a state."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he shook his head slightly. But in the end, who was he to pass judgment?

Whatever information they gathered, their duty was simple—relay it to their boss. That was all.

The rest—the woman’s condition, the fact that she was pregnant—was not their concern. At least, not at that moment.

One of the men silently stepped forward, handing their leader a phone. It was the designated device used solely for contacting Arthur.

No unnecessary words were exchanged as the leader took it, pressing the call button and bringing it to his ear. The room fell into tense silence as they all waited.

He held his breath, listening intently, each ring stretching the suspense. And then—abruptly—the call was declined.

A deep frown etched itself onto his face. His fingers tightened around the phone, his thoughts spiraling. Why would his boss reject the call? Could it have been intentional?

His gaze flickered toward the unconscious woman lying motionless before them. She was his wife—his responsibility. And she was pregnant. Shouldn’t he have shown at least a shred of concern?

Or was it possible he was simply occupied at that moment?

"Boss," one of the men called out, breaking through his thoughts.

Snapping back to the present, he turned his attention to the group. Their expectant stares made it clear—they were waiting for his response.

With a sigh, he met their gazes and spoke plainly. "He declined the call."

At that moment, they couldn’t help but wonder—what was really going on?

They knew their top boss well. If there was one thing he never overlooked, it was matters concerning the people he specifically ordered to be taken. Especially those of high importance.

Arthur always demanded updates, insisted on immediate feedback, and made sure no loose ends were left untied.

Yet now, when the situation called for urgent attention, he had not only ignored the call—he had outright declined it. That wasn’t like him.

A brief silence hung in the air before one of the men hesitantly spoke up. "Why don’t you try sending a voice note to his secretary?"

The leader considered it for a moment before nodding. It was their best option now. Without wasting time, he brought the phone close to his lips, his gaze shifting toward the unconscious woman on the couch.

Pressing the record button, he began to speak, his voice calm yet firm, making sure to convey just enough urgency without sounding desperate.

Once the message was sent, he exhaled slowly, lowering the phone from his ear. Now, all they could do was wait. He could only hope that his boss would see the message—and make a decision before it was too late.

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