THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 151: My space, my home...

Chapter 151: My space, my home...

"I know, Arthur," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of weariness. "I know you’ve cared for me. I’ve never doubted that." Her words hung in the air between them, but there was something in her eyes—something that told a deeper story than the surface level of gratitude he expected.

"But right now," Angel continued, her tone firm, "I need to fight this battle on my own. I appreciate the court complaint against Tryson, really, I do. But I think it’s time I handle this myself. Let me speak to him. Let me confront him face-to-face."

Her words were firm and unwavering, her gaze unblinking as she conveyed the seriousness of her resolve.

Arthur stood still for a moment, his eyes reflecting the weight of her words as they seemed to sink in. His lips tightened, and a low click of his tongue broke the silence before he sighed heavily, pulling his hands from his pockets.

"Are you sure about this, Angel?" His voice was laced with concern, his brow furrowing. "I mean, Tyson—"

"Arthur, I’ve made up my mind," Angel interrupted, her tone no-nonsense. "It doesn’t do us any good to keep circling around something we both know. This is my decision, and I need you to respect that. I need to face him on my own, so please, don’t stand in my way." Her words hung in the air, heavy with finality.

Arthur’s face twitched slightly, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might argue further, but instead, he forced out a strained smile.

Internally, he was wrestling with the fear that any conversation between Angel and Tryson could uncover truths that would jeopardize his own position.

Still, seeing the raw anger in Angel’s eyes, the resentment she carried for Tyson’s actions, he chose to suppress his worries—for the moment. There was no point in dwelling on the matter. He’d figure out how to resolve it later, one way or another.

"If this is truly what you want," he said, his voice quiet but resolute, "then fine. You’ll speak with Tryson right after you get to the house." He stared at Angel, searching for any sign that she might change her mind.

Angel’s expression shifted immediately—her eyebrows furrowed, confusion washing over her face. "House?" she asked, her voice thick with disbelief.

Arthur nodded without hesitation, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, house," he replied casually. "What, are you surprised?"

Angel blinked, still processing his words, as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning in his nonchalant response. Her mind raced as she tried to understand what this new development meant for everything that was unfolding around them.

Angel’s frown deepened as she stood there, her gaze unwavering as she processed his words. She crossed her arms, her posture stiff with annoyance, before responding.

"Of course I’m surprised, Arthur," she said, her voice cool but sharp. "You never mentioned anything about relocating to any house. Not once."

Arthur sighed, his expression softening as he stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush his fingers against her cheek.

"See, Angel, it’s not just any house. It’s our house," he said, his tone almost tender. "A place where we can live together, without all the drama, without the complications. A place where we can finally be free of all the mess surrounding us." His eyes locked onto hers, filled with a devotion that made her skin crawl.

Angel stiffened at his touch, a wave of disgust rising in her chest. She couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that those words—those promises—were nothing more than echoes of what he must have said to Sophia, his previous interest.

For a fleeting moment, she could almost see him whispering the same words to Sophia, his affection, his promises, all too familiar. In this moment, Angel realized the painful truth: she was just another pawn in Arthur’s game, someone he could control when it suited him.

"In your house, Arthur?" Angel’s voice was thick with a mix of disbelief and restrained anger. She paused, her gaze hardening as she met his eyes. "What about my things at Tryson’s house? How do you expect me to deal with that, huh? Everything I own is still there. My life is still tied to that place, to Tryson’s house."

Arthur smiled, though the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. He shook his head gently, as if her concerns were trivial.

"Well, that’s exactly why I suggested you speak with Tryson. What’s the harm in telling him we’re together now?" he said smoothly. "Think about it—he’s already got the case files. He’ll understand the situation. And while you’re at it, we can have your stuff moved to my place. It’ll be easy, no fuss."

But as he spoke, Angel could feel the selfishness in his words, his intentions wrapped up in his own desire to control the situation. It was all about him, about what he wanted, about what he needed, with no regard for her feelings or her situation.

She wasn’t just a partner in his mind—she was a tool, a means to an end. And that realization stung more than anything he could say.

As she stood there, her chest tightening with frustration, she knew she couldn’t let him have the upper hand anymore. This would be the last time Arthur used her like this. She’d make sure of it.

Everyone around Angel seemed to be wrapped up in their own selfish desires, trying to manipulate her for their benefit, and she was done.

She had promised herself that she wouldn’t let them weaken her, that she wouldn’t let their schemes tear her down. No, she was going to show them just how strong she truly was. It no longer mattered what any of them thought—Arthur, Tryson, or anyone else. She was done being used as a pawn in their little games.

"Do you know what, Arthur?" Angel’s voice was firm, cutting through the tension like a knife. She stared at him, her eyes unflinching and full of determination. "I have my own house. A place I could live in, and I don’t need you or anyone else telling me otherwise."

For the first time, Angel saw a flicker of surprise cross Arthur’s face, though he quickly masked it with a practiced calm. "Why would you think that, Angel?" he asked, his voice softer now, as if trying to pull her back into his control. "We’re a couple, right?"

Angel shook her head, her expression hardening. "No, Arthur," she said plainly. "I want to live in my own space, where I’m not answering to anyone, not being constantly watched or judged."

Arthur hesitated, as if trying to process her words, but his unease was palpable. After a long pause, he finally spoke again, his voice gentler. "Is something bothering you, Angel? Something you’re not telling me about?"

Angel let out a dry laugh, the bitterness creeping into her tone. "And why should I tell you, Arthur?" Her gaze bored into him, each word deliberate. "Why would I tell you anything? I’m not some machine you can use however you want. I just learned something about the people I trusted, and you want me to act like everything’s fine? Like this whole situation isn’t completely messed up?"

Arthur’s mouth opened slightly as if to respond, but Angel cut him off before he could speak. "What, you think I care about your offer? About your house? I never asked for it, and I never will. My space is my home. I don’t need you deciding that for me."