THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 167: The anger boiling within her...

Chapter 167: The anger boiling within her...

He could feel the heat radiating off her, the boiling anger almost palpable in the air between them as she glared at him with an intensity that could pierce right through his defenses.

Her hands gripped his collar with a strength that made his heart race, her fingers like iron clamps pulling him closer. Every second she stared at him felt like an eternity, and Tryson, in that moment, couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming wave of vulnerability.

He swallowed hard, his mind spinning, caught between the urge to speak and the crushing weight of her fury.

Angel’s eyes didn’t just look at him; they concentrated on him as if she could see every hidden corner of his soul, every secret he’d tried so hard to keep buried.

In that instant, Tryson felt his confidence evaporate into thin air. He could feel himself shrinking, his bravado melting into something far more timid, almost like a helpless puppy, completely at her mercy.

He didn’t care that he was on the verge of losing face—he feared what she might do to him next, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, a part of him welcomed it.

"And you’re not going to say sorry about this, Tryson?" Angel’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unwavering. The words hung in the air like a challenge.

Then, with one swift motion, she shoved him away, sending him stumbling back. He landed on the couch with a loud thud, his chest pounding with both shock and humiliation.

As he sat there, dazed and breathless, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. She stood before him, cold and composed, as if nothing had happened, her focus never leaving him.

"I know... I don’t deserve to say any sorry, but you have to hear things from my point of view."

Angel’s expression remained unyielding, her cold eyes fixed on him.

"I want you to answer my questions, no lies, no excuses—irrespective of what it is, Tryson," she said with an icy calmness that sent a shiver down his spine.

She stopped in her tracks, and for a brief moment, he thought she was done with him. But then, she reached for the methylated spirit, her movements deliberate and careful. She gripped his hand tightly, forcing him to focus on her every action.

Tryson felt his throat tighten, his breath shallow as he watched her, captivated and terrified all at once. His gaze followed every movement as she dipped the cotton into the spirit, her fingers steady and purposeful. Before he realized it, he nodded, the gesture almost automatic, as if he had no choice but to obey her silent command.

Angel’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"What were you after all along? Right from the time you met me?" she asked, her tone colder than ice.

Her hand remained firm around his, and Tryson felt the weight of the question settle over him like a heavy fog. His mouth went dry, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak, as if his voice had abandoned him in the face of her cold fury.

"Angel—"

"The answer, Tryson," she interrupted, her voice now a chilling whisper of authority, her eyes burning with an unspoken demand.

"I was trying to complete my father’s mission," Tryson said, his voice tinged with reluctance.

Deep down, he felt a pang of disappointment, the weight of the confession sitting heavily in his chest. He knew the words didn’t capture the full truth, but it was all he could muster, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to erase the hurt in Angel’s eyes.

"Does that include the moment you came back again?" Angel’s voice was low but sharp, her gaze never leaving his. Tryson hesitated, then nodded slowly, feeling the truth slipping from his lips, no matter how much he wished he could take it all back.

"So what was your mission? Did you also want the power?" Angel pressed, her voice colder now, almost predatory.

"No, I thought my father would love me," Tryson responded, his voice faltering.

The raw honesty of his admission surprised even him. It was a simple truth, yet one that had haunted him for years, a desperate desire to gain his father’s approval that had pushed him to the edge of so many dark decisions.

Before he could say anything more, a sharp, biting pain made him gasp. Angel had suddenly pressed the damp cotton onto his hand, the sting of the methylated spirit searing his skin. Tryson gritted his teeth, fighting not to flinch, but he couldn’t help the involuntary growl that escaped his throat. His eyes met hers, and to his shock, she watched him with an almost clinical detachment, her expression cold, as though she felt no remorse for what she had just done.

For a fleeting moment, anger and pain surged within him, but as the seconds dragged on, Tryson realized something. The pain wasn’t unjust. It was necessary. It was a reminder of his mistakes, a consequence for the years of lies and deception. And in a strange way, he knew he deserved it.

"When did you know about my relationship with Alex?" Angel’s question broke through the haze of his thoughts, her tone cutting through the air like a blade. Tryson looked at her, the question lingering in his mind longer than he’d expected.

"Since the time you were eighteen," he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "Alex had basically prepared me to come after you the moment your mother was beginning to disagree with the arrangements your father was planning to have." He winced at how easily the words flowed from him. It was like a dam breaking, spilling out everything he had kept hidden for so long.

The silence that followed was deafening. Angel didn’t speak, but her gaze intensified, an unspoken fury simmering beneath her calm exterior. And before Tryson could even process what had just happened, she pressed the cotton against his hand once more, the sting sharper this time. The pain flared, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching, but he didn’t dare pull away. He knew, deep down, that he had earned every bit of the torment she was subjecting him to.

"And you never bothered to tell me," Angel’s voice cracked through the tension in the room, her words heavy with an emotion Tryson couldn’t place—was it betrayal, disappointment, or something deeper? Her eyes locked onto his with a deep intensity that felt as if she were searching for a part of him that wasn’t there.

"I’m sorry, Angel," Tryson murmured, but as the words left his mouth, he shut it again, feeling the harsh contact of the cotton on his hand. The sting cut through his apology, and he immediately regretted speaking, wishing he could take it back.

Angel’s gaze didn’t soften. Instead, she spoke, her words slow and deliberate, each one falling like a heavy stone.

"I never thought I was going to hear these words from you, and what hurts the most is the fact that it seemed like you took everything for granted." Her voice was raw now, layered with pain and disbelief.

Tryson’s chest tightened. He wanted to apologize again, wanted to explain everything, but the words felt inadequate in the face of her hurt.

"I wish I could turn things around, but it’s so much harder than I thought. It’s painful to even try to relieve you of the pain I caused," he said, his voice shaking as he spoke. Every word felt like a weight he couldn’t lift.

"My baby... is one of the most precious things I could only handle at this moment," Angel said, her voice softer now but no less resolute. "And your game, Tryson, you never even thought about my feelings. Not even the moment you returned." She paused, the silence in the room swallowing her words. Then, she raised her head, her eyes meeting his with a depth that seemed to pierce straight through him.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The room felt heavy, filled with an unspoken understanding. Tryson could see it in her eyes—the hurt, the anger, the years of confusion and betrayal. And in that silence, he felt the full weight of what he had done.

It sank in deeper than anything he had felt before, a crushing realization that there was no way she could ever take it lightly, no way to undo the damage he had caused. The burden of it all settled on him like an anchor, and for the first time, he truly understood the depth of the pain he had inflicted.

"I tried my best to console myself because I also knew that I had treated you wrongly," Angel said, her voice soft but heavy with emotion. She didn’t break eye contact, her gaze unwavering as she looked at him, as though she were trying to read the very essence of his soul. "Never expected such action from you, Tryson. It stings." The words hung in the air between them, sharp and raw, cutting through the space as though they were a wound that had never truly healed. One word was clear enough to show the depth of the hurt she was experiencing, more than any apology could ever convey.

Tryson’s heart clenched in his chest, each beat painfully slow. He had never felt this powerless, never imagined that his actions would hurt Angel so much.

"I... I wasn’t thinking straight," he stammered, feeling his voice falter. His mind raced, trying to piece together the right words. "But then all I could do was think of you and the baby. If I’m going to swear on this—the baby and you were the only things that mattered to me."

Angel’s expression didn’t soften, but there was something in her eyes now—maybe a flicker of uncertainty, a hint of vulnerability buried deep beneath the hurt. She took in a breath, her gaze not leaving his, as she spoke again, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.

"You know, the moment you came back, I really thought you were going to be better. I was scared of you finding out about the baby because I didn’t want my heart to break. I didn’t want to feel like I was making the wrong decision." She paused, as if gathering her thoughts, before continuing. "A few months ago, I couldn’t help but wonder... had I ever made the right decision by deciding to sleep with you? The time we both consummated..."