THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 120: What the hell?

Chapter 120: What the hell?

"What did you just say?" Arthur’s voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade.

His grip on the doorknob tightened, his knuckles turning white as he turned his piercing gaze toward his men.

They stood frozen, their mouths slightly open, yet no words escaped. It was as if the weight of the revelation had robbed them of speech, leaving them to fumble for an explanation that refused to form.

The news that Sophia was pregnant with his child should have been something he welcomed—something that brought a sense of purpose or at the very least, some satisfaction.

But instead, a cold, unsettling dread seeped into his bones.

An instinctual warning flared in his mind, whispering that this pregnancy, rather than a blessing, could become a dangerous liability.

Why?

Because in his world, children were not just heirs.

They were vulnerabilities.

If word got out—if the wrong people discovered that the child was his—it would paint a target on his back larger than ever before.

The underground mafia world thrived on leverage, on exploiting weaknesses, and a child... his child... could be used as the perfect weapon against him.

The thought alone sent a ripple of tension through him.

He wanted to issue a command, to take control of the situation immediately, but instead, his voice came out cold and calculating.

"And you’re certain she’s not faking any of this?"

His eyes flickered downward, locking onto the doorknob beneath his fingers.

Just beyond that door was Angel—the woman carrying the child that belonged to his worst enemy.

A single turn of the knob, and he would be face to face with the one who unknowingly held such dangerous power over him.

"Yes, sir," one of his men answered firmly. "She was unconscious when the doctor confirmed it. There’s no way she could have staged this."

Arthur exhaled sharply, clicking his tongue in irritation. His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts, each one demanding his attention.

He wasn’t a man who allowed uncertainty to cloud his judgment, yet here he was—teetering on the edge of indecision. But he had no time to dwell. There were things that needed to be handled.

Now.

Without another word, Arthur twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.

The moment his eyes landed on Angel, a slow, dangerous smirk curled his lips.

She lay on the couch, her body still, her breathing soft and even. Her long braids cascaded over the cushions like dark silk, and her lashes rested delicately against her cheeks, concealing those fiery eyes of hers.

Even in unconsciousness, she held an air of defiance, an untouchable beauty that both intrigued and irritated him.

She looked magnificent.

But admiration had no place here. He had work to do.

"Bring me some water," Arthur commanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

The man in the room obeyed without hesitation, swiftly moving to the other side where he retrieved a glass of water.

With a silent nod, he handed it over to Arthur, who accepted it with a faint, knowing smile.

Adjusting the cuffs of his suit with deliberate precision, Arthur exhaled softly, smoothing out the fabric as if preparing for an important moment.

The men around him, sensing his intent, quickly brought over a chair and placed it before him.

Once everything was set, he lowered himself onto the chair with an air of authority, his movements calculated and unhurried.

Leaning forward, he peered intently at Angel, who lay motionless before him, lost in slumber.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he scooped a handful of water from the glass and, without a second thought, sprinkled it over her face.

"Wake up, my sleeping Angel," he murmured, his voice laced with something between amusement and impatience.

The cold droplets shocked Angel out of her unconscious state.

She stirred, groaning softly as she adjusted to the dimly lit room. Her breath hitched as her senses sharpened, her mind scrambling to grasp her surroundings.

Then, as her eyes focused, she finally registered the figure before her.

"Arthur?" she whispered, her voice hoarse with disbelief.

Angel stared at him looking stunned as he sat nearby her with a sly, almost triumphant grin stretched across his face.

"That’s me, of course," he said, his tone dripping with mischief.

Angel’s heartbeat quickened.

A wave of unease settled over her as she instinctively reached for her head, trying to steady herself.

Arthur, who had been watching her every move with an almost predatory gaze, let a slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"The heavens must have decided to send an Angel into the depths of darkness," he quipped, his words meant to taunt.

Angel’s expression hardened.

The memories came rushing back, crashing into her like a tidal wave. Panic flickered in her eyes as she recalled the events leading up to this moment.

"Arthur... what did you do?" she demanded, her voice trembling with both fear and fury. "You know that Tryson—"

"There you go again!" Arthur cut her off sharply, his tone shifting from amusement to something darker. "Tryson, Tryson, Tryson! Do you even realize how hard I’ve worked? How much I’ve sacrificed just to bring you to me? And now, instead of acknowledging that, you’re worried about the very man responsible for your suffering?"

Angel’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, processing his words, disbelief washing over her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she spat, her anger flaring.

Before she could react further, Arthur’s expression darkened, and he abruptly lifted his hand as if to strike her.

She flinched, bracing for the impact—but it never came.

Instead, Arthur hesitated, a strange conflict flashing in his eyes. His fingers twitched before he slowly lowered his hand, his lips curving into an eerie smile.

Angel’s fear was palpable as she stared at him, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths.

Arthur reached for her face then, his fingers grazing her cheek in a touch that was both disturbingly gentle and unsettlingly possessive.

His smile remained, but his eyes told a different story.