THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 119: About the matter...

Chapter 119: About the matter...

Arthur moved with an effortless yet commanding presence, his hands lazily tucked into his pockets as he descended the grand staircase of the auditorium.

Each step echoed with quiet authority, his strides unhurried yet powerful, as if the world itself adjusted to his pace.

Outside, the sleek black car awaited him, its door already open in silent deference.

Without breaking his stride, he slid into the luxurious leather interior, and the door was swiftly shut behind him with a firm click, sealing him inside the cocoon of his own thoughts.

Leaning back against the cool leather, Arthur exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the city lights flickering beyond the tinted windows.

His mind, however, was elsewhere—on the pressing matter at hand.

Tryson. The name alone tightened something in his chest.

That man wouldn’t stop. Not tonight. Not ever.

Arthur knew he had to act quickly. If he hesitated for even a moment, he would lose the upper hand, and losing was never an option.

His fingers instinctively reached into his pocket, retrieving a lighter. With a practiced flick, a small flame ignited, casting a brief golden glow over his face as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

The first inhale filled his lungs, the smoke curling around him like a slow-moving storm, thick and intoxicating. It blurred the edges of his already darkening thoughts—thoughts of Angel.

A strange, unwelcome feeling stirred within him.

Pity.

He despised the emotion, yet there it was, creeping in like an unwelcome guest.

But just as quickly as it appeared, he pushed it away, replacing it with cold resolve. Sentiment had no place here.

Angel was nothing more than a pawn in this game, and he could not afford to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

Tryson’s child would never be born. Arthur would make certain of it.

The thought settled deep in his chest, solidifying his purpose.

He wasn’t Tryson—he was something far more dangerous. And he would not allow an unknown variable, a potential future rival, to exist.

No, he would eliminate the threat before it ever had a chance to rise against him.

Pain? Regret? Those were luxuries he couldn’t afford. The only thing that would truly hurt was failure. And Arthur had never been one to lose.

As Arthur took another slow drag from his cigarette, the soft beep of his phone cut through the thick haze of smoke curling around him.

Lowering his head slightly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

It was the recording—the one he had instructed his men to capture in case anything went awry. And just as he had anticipated, the outcome played out exactly as he had foreseen.

At the very end of the recording, Tryson had realized Arthur was up to something.

Arthur exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his amusement deepening.

Truth be told, he had expected Tryson to catch on much earlier, but the man had been blinded—blinded by his own arrogance and, more importantly, by Angel.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from Arthur’s chest.

It was almost laughable how much of a fool Tryson had been, chasing after a fantasy while failing to see the storm brewing right in front of him.

For a brief moment, Arthur had even entertained the possibility that Tryson possessed some form of power, something worth being wary of.

But in the end, Tryson had proven to be nothing more than another man doomed by his own weakness.

And that weakness had a name. Angel.

Arthur couldn’t deny it—she was temptation in its most dangerous form.

Everything about her was intoxicating, from the way she carried herself to the way her lips could unravel even the most controlled of men. Even now, just the memory of her touch, her kiss, sent a slow heat coursing through him, making his lips part slightly, as if craving another taste.

It was maddening. And to think, for a moment, he had almost forgotten he had a wife.

But before his thoughts could spiral further, the car rolled to a sudden stop.

The abrupt motion jolted Arthur back to reality, his fingers tightening slightly around the cigarette as his gaze flickered toward the window.

They had arrived.

Arthur exhaled one last time, watching the smoke dissipate as he straightened himself. He was about to speak when he noticed the way his driver sat stiffly, hands gripping the steering wheel just a little too tightly.

The man said nothing—perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of wisdom.

Arthur smirked again. Good choice.

Arthur remained unusually quiet, his sharp gaze shifting toward the tinted window as he observed the surroundings with a calculated stare.

The silence stretched, heavy with thought, before he finally exhaled another slow cloud of smoke, his cigarette burning faintly between his fingers.

Without another word, he pushed open the car door and stepped out, still lazily vaping as he strode away with an air of unshaken authority.

The halls of the mansion loomed before him—his mansion, the very place where he had chosen to keep both Angel and, interestingly enough, his wife.

His steps echoed softly against the marble floor as he advanced, the subdued glow of the chandeliers casting elongated shadows that danced along the walls.

His men, ever-vigilant, immediately straightened upon recognizing him, their silent deference apparent.

Without hesitation, they moved to escort him through the house, guiding him through familiar corridors. As they proceeded, they passed by her room.

Sophia.

Arthur’s steps faltered for the briefest moment.

A recollection surfaced—he had received a call earlier from the man assigned to oversee Sophia’s well-being.

Now, standing at Angel’s door, his fingers brushed against the cool metal of the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it. Instead, his voice, calm yet laced with quiet authority, broke the silence.

"So... how has she been doing?" His question was measured, deliberate.

He hadn’t yet entered Angel’s room, which lay just beyond, but something about Sophia’s presence made him pause.

He already knew she was fine—of course, she was. But still, he needed to hear it.

One of his men hesitated before answering, clearing his throat as he shifted slightly.

"Actually, sir... the situation is that she’s pregnant."

Arthur’s grip on the doorknob tightened ever so slightly. The words hung in the air like a loaded gun, pressing against the walls of his mind, demanding to be acknowledged.

Pregnant.

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