THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 128: Kill the child...

Chapter 128: Kill the child...

Tryson stormed into the VVIP lounge with an air of barely contained aggression, his footsteps heavy against the polished marble floor.

The room was designed to exude luxury—plush velvet seating, a dim yet elegant glow from the chandelier above, and a panoramic floor-to-ceiling window that bathed the space in the golden hues of the setting sun.

Yet, none of that mattered to him. His mind was a storm, raging with thoughts that refused to settle.

For a brief moment, he paced in agitation, his hands clenched into fists before he finally moved toward the massive window, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the city below.

The lighter in his hand clicked rhythmically, his fingers flicking the metal wheel with an almost mechanical precision.

He wasn’t just waiting. He was bracing himself.

Then—the faint yet unmistakable click of the door latch.

Tryson didn’t move, but he knew exactly who had entered.

He didn’t need to turn around to recognize the presence behind him.

Instead, he remained fixated on the view ahead, his reflection barely visible against the darkening glass.

"You let this happen, didn’t you?" His voice was low, cold, laced with quiet fury.

He could hear the slow, deliberate footsteps approaching, but instead of an immediate reply, he caught sight of Alex’s reflection in the glass—a smug expression playing across his face.

Unfazed, Alex turned his attention toward the sleek bar nestled in the corner of the lounge. With the practiced ease of a man who had done this countless times, he reached for a crystal decanter, pouring a measure of whiskey into two pristine glasses.

The sound of ice clinking against the glass filled the silence before he finally strolled toward Tryson, offering one of the drinks with an almost nonchalant air.

"Would you care for a drink?" Alex asked, his tone light, almost teasing.

Tryson didn’t respond. He remained motionless, his jaw tightening, his fingers still idly flicking at the lighter in his grasp.

Alex scoffed. He had expected resistance.

Tryson was never one to accept things without a fight—not unless he got the answers he wanted.

"You know there’s a lot you need to hear," Alex said smoothly, taking a slow sip of his drink. "So why don’t we make this conversation... a little more civil?"

A tense pause stretched between them before Tryson finally shifted. His eyes, dark and unreadable, met Alex’s with a piercing intensity. Then, without a word, he reached forward, fingers wrapping around the offered glass.

"Oh, so you have the lighter," Alex said, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes as he reached out and plucked the metal piece from Tryson’s hand.

Before Tryson could react, he watched as Alex flicked the lighter open with practiced ease.

A small flame danced to life, illuminating his face for a brief moment. With a cigarette between his lips, Alex leaned in, lighting the tip before inhaling deeply.

He held the smoke in for a second, savoring it, then exhaled a slow stream, the haze curling around him like a phantom.

"Do you want one?" Alex asked, extending the cigarette toward Tryson, his gaze steady.

Tryson barely moved. With a slow shake of his head, he declined the offer, his expression unreadable.

"Well, that’s your loss," Alex muttered, exhaling another puff before strolling over to the couch.

He sank into the plush cushions with an air of complete ease, one arm draped lazily over the backrest.

The sight of his father’s casual demeanor sent a fresh wave of irritation coursing through Tryson.

His grip on the glass in his hand tightened as he finally spoke, his voice low but laced with an unmistakable edge.

"You know... it’s starting to get unbearable watching you act so casually—like everything is fine," he said, his tone hardened by restrained fury.

Alex chuckled, a deep, almost mocking sound, as he settled further into his seat. He crossed one leg over the other, his piercing gaze locking onto Tryson’s.

"What exactly do you mean?" Alex asked, his voice now cold, unreadable.

Tryson’s jaw tensed. His fingers pressed against the smooth surface of the glass, his knuckles whitening as unease settled over his face.

Alex, ever observant, let out another quiet chuckle, clearly amused by Tryson’s barely concealed frustration.

"I always knew you’d crack under the weight of this," he murmured, almost to himself.

But the words weren’t lost on Tryson.

His head snapped up, eyes dark with fury. "So that gave you the right to give Arthur permission to—"

"I gave you such right, young man!" Alex suddenly roared, his voice cutting through the air like a blade, shattering his earlier indifference.

Tryson flinched at the sudden shift in tone, but he didn’t back down. He met his father’s furious glare head-on, the tension between them now thick enough to suffocate.

"I gave you the power—the right—to bring the girl to me," Alex said, his voice laced with disappointment. "But what did you do? You misused that right... and even got her pregnant."

The words hit Tryson like a physical blow. His grip on the glass faltered slightly, his entire body stiffening as the weight of his father’s accusation sank in.

"What did you just say?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet charged with disbelief.

Alex chuckled, a slow, knowing sound, his sharp eyes watching as Tryson faltered. He could see the shock unraveling in his son’s expression, the slight quiver in his stance.

"You’re surprised, aren’t you?" Alex mused, taking another drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing ominously before he exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

Tryson’s jaw clenched.

His mind raced, scrambling to process what he had just heard.

Angel... lied to me?

The thought struck him with unexpected force, his chest tightening as anger slowly crept into his veins.

"And why wouldn’t she lie to you?" Alex scoffed, shaking his head. "Tell me, what exactly is so shocking about this? You both deceived each other, and yet, you thought this so-called romantic relationship would last?"

His words were sharp, biting, each syllable striking with cruel precision. He pointed his cigarette toward Tryson, frustration flashing in his gaze.

"You know exactly what it means to disobey me," Alex continued, his tone darkening. "And just because I didn’t impose immediate punishment doesn’t mean I was going to sit back like a fool and do nothing."

Tryson’s fingers curled into a tight fist.

"So, I did what needed to be done," Alex went on, his voice eerily calm. "I decided that Arthur would take Angel. And not just that—he would also make sure that the child in her womb isn’t—"

"Father!" Tryson roared, his voice echoing through the room.

His fury ignited like an uncontrolled fire, raw and volatile.

But Alex didn’t flinch. He had expected this reaction. He had prepared for it.

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