THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 121: The power you have...Angel!

Chapter 121: The power you have...Angel!

The moment Angel turned her head toward Arthur once more, her breath caught in her throat.

She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief, as if she no longer recognized the man standing before her.

His expression was unnervingly unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—a shadow of madness—that made her blood run cold.

In that instant, he no longer seemed like the Arthur she knew.

No, he looked like a complete psychopath.

A shudder ran through her, though she forced herself to maintain a mask of confidence, her lips pressing together as she locked eyes with him.

But then, in a chilling contrast to the heavy tension in the air, Arthur chuckled—low, rich, and disturbingly amused.

His hand reached for her cheek, his fingers grazing her skin with deceptive gentleness, and then he tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting into something that almost seemed... apologetic.

"Oh my," he murmured, his voice eerily calm, as if he were merely commenting on a minor inconvenience. "What is happening? I shouldn’t have done that."

Yet the way he spoke those words sent a deeper wave of fear crashing into Angel’s chest.

He wasn’t apologizing—at least, not in the way a sane person would.

No, his tone was controlled, too careful, as if he were keeping something sinister tightly caged within him.

Arthur’s eyes never left hers as he continued, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken menace.

"You should have listened to me, Angel. I warned you so many times, didn’t I? I told you—don’t be deceived by Tryson. But you wouldn’t listen. And now... look where that stubbornness has brought you."

He let out a slow breath, his lips curving into something between a smirk and a sneer.

"You even pushed me to the point where I almost lost my temper. You see what you’ve done? I nearly hit you. But I won’t do it again, okay?" His smile widened, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture disturbingly affectionate.

"But you have to understand something, Angel. Just because I didn’t tie you to a chair doesn’t mean you’re free to do as you please. You wouldn’t want to do something reckless, now, would you? That could lead to... regrettable consequences."

His lips stretched into a mockery of reassurance, as if he were granting her his trust, but Angel couldn’t move—couldn’t even process the nightmare unfolding before her.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, laced with both confusion and quiet desperation.

At that, Arthur’s smile widened even further, his entire demeanor exuding satisfaction. He had been waiting for that question.

Expecting it. And now, finally, she had said it.

Music to his ears.

"Ah, yes," he mused, rolling the words off his tongue as if savoring their taste. "That is the heart of this moment, isn’t it? Why are you here?"

His voice dripped with theatrical delight, but his movements sent an icy shiver down Angel’s spine.

Then, his expression darkened, his amusement melting away like mist burned by fire.

"It’s because of Tryson," Arthur said, his tone turning to something more sinister, his gaze sharp enough to cut.

"He’s the reason for all of this. If not for him, I wouldn’t have had to go this far. But you..." His lips curled into something resembling disappointment. "You love the attention. The thrill of it all. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Angel. But you refused to listen."

His voice dipped lower, almost a whisper, yet every word dripped with accusation. "And now look where it’s led you. And where is Tryson now? Hmm? He’s not here to save you, is he?"

Arthur spread his arms wide, as if relishing the moment, his expression filled with twisted satisfaction.

He lifted his head, staring at the ceiling as though basking in some unseen triumph. But just as quickly as the moment came, it vanished.

His smile faded. His jaw tightened. His entire expression darkened into something terrifyingly menacing as he lowered his gaze back to her.

"But yes, this is Tryson’s fault," he said, his voice now quiet, almost pitying. "You think I warned you against him out of jealousy? No, Angel. It was for your own good."

Angel’s brows furrowed. The fear in her eyes was momentarily replaced with confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur tilted his head slightly, his lips parting in a knowing smile.

"What I mean," he said, his voice almost gentle now, "is that Tryson is after something precious that you have."

He watched her closely, drinking in the way her expression twisted in confusion, knowing full well that she was about to walk straight into the realization he had been waiting for.

And when she finally understood...

Oh, how delicious that moment would be.

Arthur had expected Angel to grasp the meaning behind his words instantly, but as he watched confusion flicker across her face, he felt a thrill of satisfaction.

Clearly, Alex hadn’t told her anything yet. That was perfect. At least, for now, he could use it to his advantage—manipulate her while she remained in the dark.

"You seem like you don’t understand what you have," Arthur said, his voice carrying an edge of amusement.

But as he studied her expression, he nodded as if in understanding and exhaled a deep breath, his tone shifting into something more deliberate.

"You have wealth, power, and authority—more than anyone could ever imagine," he declared, his words laced with a strange mix of sincerity and mockery, as though he were playing some elaborate joke at her expense.

Angel’s brow furrowed in disbelief. "What are you talking about, Arthur?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

Instead of answering directly, Arthur reached for her hands, lifting them carefully yet deliberately.

He raised them high—high enough that they were now suspended between the two of them, a silent symbol of something greater.

"With these hands alone," he continued, his gaze locking onto hers, "you hold the power to grant anyone exactly what they desire."

Angel’s confusion deepened. She stared at him, trying to decipher his cryptic words, but all she could think was that something was off.

Had Arthur finally lost his grip on reality more than usual?

The strong, acrid scent of cigarette smoke clung to his breath, but there was something else.

Something sharper. Weed, perhaps? Had he been smoking before walking in? Had it clouded his judgment, twisted his thoughts?

"What are you saying, Arthur? I don’t have anything," she insisted, shaking her head. "Not even one single thing."

Yet, even as she spoke, doubt whispered at the back of her mind.

Was he referring to her father, Alex Johnson?

The very thought made her chest tighten with resentment.

No. That part of her life was over.

She was done with Alex for good. And knowing him, he wouldn’t spare a second thought about leaving her an inheritance.

After all, he had Samuel—the son who was born around the same time she had been cast out of the house.

The golden child. The rightful heir.

She clenched her fists, her mind racing. If Arthur thought he could make her believe otherwise, he was gravely mistaken.