THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 147: About Angel’s child

Chapter 147: About Angel’s child

"Angel... what about her child?" Sophia’s voice trembled as she exhaled, her breath barely escaping her lips.

She stared at him, searching his expression, desperate for an answer.

But in that moment, she realized something chilling—she was terrified of the words that would come next. A deep, unshakable fear settled in her chest, wrapping around her like an iron chain. Still, she forced herself to continue.

"What did you do to her?" Her voice was sharper now, laced with barely restrained fury. "I know you, Arthur. You wouldn’t just let her go. You wouldn’t let her have that child. After all, you never let me have mine."

Her last words cut through the space between them like a blade, each syllable coated in venomous pain.

Her body tensed, her fingers curling into trembling fists. A suffocating weight pressed against her chest, and for a split second, she felt like she might collapse under the storm of emotions raging inside her.

When Angel had told her the truth—everything that had happened—it shattered her.

Every wound Arthur had inflicted on her, every scar he had carved into her soul, burned anew. But now, standing here, faced with the cruelty in his gaze, she knew one thing for certain.

If this was the moment she was meant to break, then so be it. But she wouldn’t shatter into something weak. No—she would rise.

If this meant stepping into the darkness, becoming something she had never dared to be, then she was ready. She would ride this storm like a warrior, unflinching, unafraid.

Arthur’s lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, stretching so wide it nearly touched his ears. His dark eyes gleamed with something sinister, something that made her stomach twist with dread.

Slowly, he took a step forward, closing the distance between them inch by inch. The heat of his breath ghosted against her cheek as he leaned in, his presence suffocating.

Then, in a voice so low it sent shivers down her spine, he whispered, "Angel is going to be just fine. Just like you... No spoilers, my dear."

His tone was mocking, drenched in amusement, as if he relished watching her unravel. And in that instant, she knew. He had no intention of letting that child live. He was playing with her, manipulating the moment to make her feel small—like she was nothing more than a pawn in his game.

But he had underestimated her.

Because if he thought she was going to crumble beneath his cruelty, then he had no idea what kind of storm he had just unleashed.

But her silence—oh, her silence—would one day be Arthur’s greatest shock.

He would never see it coming, never suspect that she knew far more than she let on.

And when the time came, when the truth unraveled before him, his arrogance would crumble beneath the weight of her revelation.

Sophia watched as Arthur pulled back, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow, knowing smile crept onto his lips, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"You know," he began smoothly, tilting his head as if savoring the moment, "I told the doctor to expect you today. It’s a new day, after all, and new things must begin."

His words were accompanied by a quiet chuckle, lighthearted yet laced with something chilling. He lifted a hand, the motion almost affectionate, and gently patted Sophia’s cheek.

A thick silence stretched between them. For a moment, neither of them moved. The air felt heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Then, just as the weight of it became unbearable, Arthur spoke again.

"You know, my dear," he mused, his voice as smooth as silk, "I nearly forgot something important. Since it’s a new day, I thought it only fitting to present you with a little gift. Something that I believe you would... enjoy."

His words trailed off as he reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around whatever it was he intended to give her.

But just as he was about to pull it out, he hesitated. His eyes flickered to hers, studying her with an eerie intensity. A small frown appeared on his face, and then, with a slow shake of his head, he let out a soft chuckle.

"No, no," he murmured, almost to himself. "Now that I think about it, I don’t believe you’ll enjoy it at all. But then again..." His gaze darkened, his smirk widening. "Come to think of it, this might be just what you need. A newfound passion, if you will."

Sophia’s heart pounded violently against her ribs. She already knew. And the moment the realization sank deeper into her bones, a fury unlike any she had ever felt ignited within her.

"Arthur," she snapped, her voice sharp and laced with raw anger. "What do you want to give me?"

Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her body taut with restrained emotion.

Because deep down, she understood—whatever he was about to hand her was meant to break her. To twist the knife deeper into wounds that had barely begun to heal.

But if Arthur thought she would shatter so easily, he was gravely mistaken.

Arthur sighed, his expression unreadable, before slipping a hand into his suit pocket. With an effortless motion, he retrieved a neatly folded brown envelope, holding it between his fingers as though it were something insignificant.

Without a word, he extended it toward her.

Sophia took it, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface. She stared at the envelope, her face unreadable, her silence stretching longer than he had anticipated.

How surprising. She didn’t ask what it was.

Instead, with a swift, almost mechanical motion, she reached inside and pulled out the documents.

Her eyes swept over the words printed on the first page, and then she spoke—her voice calm, almost detached.

"A divorce paper?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Arthur tilted his head slightly, watching her with cautious intrigue. "Yeah, well actually—" He hesitated, as if searching for the right words, as if expecting her to crumble before he could even finish.

But she didn’t.

"Please, just give me the pen." Her tone was brief, resolute.

Arthur blinked. His fingers twitched at his sides. He had anticipated resistance—rage, tears, perhaps even an argument. But this? This unsettling calmness? It threw him off balance.

For a moment, excitement flickered in his chest at the thought of her signing the papers so willingly.

But then, something else crept in—something uneasy, something wrong. Why wasn’t she devastated? Why wasn’t she fighting this?

Still, he reached into his pocket once more and pulled out a sleek black pen, offering it to her.

Sophia took it, her fingers curling around it with an almost imperceptible tremble. It wasn’t fear—it wasn’t even hesitation.

Her grip tightened.

She lowered her head.

And then, it was time.