THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 124: Get you trapped...

Chapter 124: Get you trapped...

"I mean," he drawled, drawing out each word with calculated intent, "the entire process was designed to ensure you walked straight into this trap."

A sharp breath hitched in Angel’s throat as the weight of his words crashed down on her.

"Trap?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper, her frown deepening as an unsettling realization began to dawn upon her.

Arthur simply smiled.

The shock that washed over her features was undeniable.

But before she could fully process the revelation, Arthur’s lips curled into a slow, almost sinister smile that stretched toward his sharp eyes.

"Are you really surprised?" he taunted, his tone dripping with amusement.

Angel’s heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to hold his gaze, her mind racing.

Arthur exhaled slowly before continuing, his voice calm yet deliberate. "If you must know, Tryson—along with your father—has known the truth for a long time. They were fully aware that you were the president’s daughter. That’s precisely why they kept you."

Angel felt a storm of emotions raging inside her, questions piling up faster than she could form words.

Her fingers curled into fists on her lap as she struggled to make sense of it all.

"If they knew, then why didn’t they ever tell me?" she finally blurted out, her voice cracking slightly.

Arthur let out a low, mocking chuckle, shaking his head as if he found her innocence amusing. "You seriously think they would just walk up to you one day and say, ’Hey Angel, guess what? You’re the daughter of one of the richest men in the country!’ And then what? You’d suddenly be overcome with some fairytale desire to reunite with your long-lost family?"

His voice had taken on a theatrical, almost mocking tone, and for a moment, Angel just stared at him, stunned into silence.

Arthur’s smirk deepened as he leaned in slightly. "Did you really expect that kind of honesty? Or were you just naïve enough to believe they had your best interests at heart?"

Angel swallowed hard.

She wasn’t sure what disturbed her more—the truth itself or the way Arthur reveled in revealing it.

"Well, to make this story even more intriguing," Arthur began, his tone dripping with amusement, "I discovered that the real reason they kept the truth from you was simple—they were trying to claim ownership over you."

Angel’s brows knitted together, confusion clouding her features. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words.

Arthur let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as if he were the bearer of the most unfortunate news.

"Yes, darling. I know it must be shocking. But you know what they say—the truth is bitter. Actually," he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his expression twisting as if he had just tasted something unbearably sour, "it’s leaving a terrible taste in my mouth just saying it to you."

He leaned back, tapping his fingers against the armrest, his voice turning almost reflective. "Come to think of it, I’m rather disgusted by their actions. But what can we do? Greedy people will always be greedy. They never change, do they?"

He exhaled as if deep in thought, his gaze momentarily distant.

Then, as if snapping out of his own musings, he suddenly straightened and turned back to Angel, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. "But let’s not get lost in that. Back to the story, shall we?"

Angel remained silent, watching him with wary eyes.

Arthur’s smile widened as he continued. "Once upon a time, you had wealth beyond imagination—so much that, compared to what your so-called father has now, it’s practically laughable."

He paused for effect, his eyes gleaming as he recalled what he was about to say next. "Yes, you were just a child when all of this unfolded, far too young to remember a thing. But allow me to fill in the blanks for you."

Leaning in slightly, he lowered his voice, as if sharing a well-guarded secret. "Your fake father—the man you believed to be your real parent—was nothing more than a mere servant. In fact, within the entire Wang Liam household, he was just an ordinary driver."

Arthur chuckled, the sound light and mocking, but his amusement was short-lived.

He quickly realized Angel wasn’t reacting the way he expected.

Instead of shock or anger, she just sat there, unreadable, her gaze piercing through him like she was dissecting his every word.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he coughed and straightened his posture, brushing off the silence. "Ahem—anyway, where was I?"

"Besides, ouch, that hurts." Arthur placed a hand over his chest in mock pain, tilting his head as he stared at Angel. "And here I thought you always laughed when I told such ridiculous stories."

But Angel didn’t react.

She sat there, eerily still, her expression unreadable. It was as if every revelation had drained her of the will to respond.

The torment in her eyes was evident, yet she refused to let it surface.

Arthur exhaled, rolling his shoulders before continuing. "But as we all know, Wang Liam died in a gruesome accident—along with his wife. And, supposedly, their child was involved too."

He paused, watching for any flicker of reaction from Angel, but she remained silent.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "But here’s the twist—she didn’t die."

Angel’s gaze twitched, but she said nothing.

"Why, you may ask?" Arthur’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Because your so-called father—the man who raised you—was the one who pulled you out of that wreckage. When everyone assumed you were dead, he took you away, snatching you from the life that was rightfully yours."

Arthur tapped his fingers on the armrest, his voice turning sharper.

"And, of course, being the opportunist that he was, he made sure to take full advantage of the situation. The moment he had you, he went straight to the lawyers, probably spinning his own pathetic little sob story."

His smirk deepened as he watched Angel’s expression shift ever so slightly.

"While the entire Liam family was weeping at a funeral—crocodile tears and all—over a child they believed was dead, they had already prepared a fake tombstone for their supposedly lost daughter. Meanwhile, you?" Arthur chuckled darkly. "You were sitting at the Johnson household, unknowingly feeding them wealth, while they let you believe the food on your plate came from their own hard-earned money."

Angel’s breath hitched slightly, but she quickly masked it, her voice flat and unwavering.

"How is that even possible? I look exactly like my mother. Why should I believe a single word you’re saying?"