THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 82: Arthur...

Chapter 82: Arthur...

Angel eagerly awaited the moment the call would connect, holding the phone close to her ear, and as soon as the call was answered, she promptly stated, "Arthur," she uttered.

On the other end of the line, Arthur clicked his tongue—a sharp, deliberate sound that oozed his irritation.

He knew exactly why she was calling, and the realization only deepened his displeasure.

"You know, Angel," he began, his voice deceptively calm, though the underlying tension was unmistakable. "I just walked out of a rather grueling conference, and I would really appreciate it if you didn’t add to my list of complications right now."

His tone was controlled, but the barely restrained fury simmering beneath it was impossible to miss.

Angel scoffed, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Seriously, Arthur? This is about the same arrangement you orchestrated, isn’t it?"

Arthur exhaled sharply, his patience thinning by the second. "Really? That’s what you’re going with?" His voice dropped an octave, cold and biting. "While I’m over here trying to clean up the mess that just made the headlines, this is how you choose to repay me?"

"Arthur. Just stop it." Angel’s voice finally broke through, sharp with anger, her patience shattered like glass.

The salty breeze whipped at her hair as she walked along the shoreline, the rhythmic crashing of waves doing little to drown out the fury boiling inside her.

The beach was alive with laughter and chatter, but in her world, everything had narrowed down to the burning resentment she felt toward the man on the other end of the call.

Arthur scoffed, an incredulous chuckle escaping his lips. He leaned back, gripping his phone tighter, unable to believe that she was actually yelling at him.

Him.

"Arthur, do you know what infuriates me the most?" Angel asked, her voice a controlled storm, the kind that made the air feel thick with an impending downpour.

She let the question hang, the silence between them stretching just long enough to let the tension coil.

Then, with a sharp exhale, she let loose. "The fact that you had the audacity to claim you’re the father of my child without even asking me. As if that wasn’t enough, instead of putting out the fire, you’re fanning the flames—while Tryson is the one here desperately trying to fix the mess! A mess that only God knows who started!"

Arthur’s smirk faded.

His jaw tightened, his grip on the phone unyielding.

A slow, ominous frown carved across his face as he absorbed her words, his expression shifting into something darker. Then, in a voice laced with something menacing, something that sent a shiver down Angel’s spine, he asked,

"Angel... where are you right now?"

Angel remained silent, gripping her phone tightly as the wind tangled her hair.

The waves crashed onto the shore, their rhythmic roar the only sound transmitted through the call. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions.

On the other end, Arthur scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

Men—the patience he had been holding onto for this woman!

"You’re with him, aren’t you?" His voice was low, edged with something cold and dangerous.

He didn’t yell; he didn’t need to. Instead, he brought the phone closer, making sure she caught every ounce of restrained fury lacing his words.

"You said I didn’t ask your permission? Do you know why, Angel?" His voice was a slow, seething drawl. "Because I knew you’d refuse. And if you must know—everything I do, everything—is for you and the baby you’re carrying." His breath hitched slightly, his tone darkening. "But instead, you’re over there... carrying on with that fuck ass."

A thick, suffocating silence settled between them.

Arthur sat in the backseat of his vehicle, fingers digging into his phone, his jaw clenched as he let his anger simmer.

Meanwhile, Angel stood by the shore, the waves rushing around her feet, the ocean stretching infinitely before her—yet she had never felt so cornered.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"No, Arthur. I’m really starting to question everything—especially you." Her voice was firm, laced with exhaustion and heartbreak. "You keep saying you’re trying to protect me, but all I feel is hurt. And it seems like you don’t even care."

Arthur let out a dark chuckle, his grip tightening.

"Oh really? Is that what you think?"

Angel pressed the phone tightly against her ear, her pulse hammering in her chest. She couldn’t believe she was about to say what had been weighing on her heart for far too long—but enough was enough.

The truth had to be spoken, no matter how brutal. She was done with the lies, the manipulation, the confusion.

"You know what, Arthur?" Her voice was steady, but beneath it lay a storm. "You insisted on keeping our relationship low-key while I worked in your office, and I accepted it because I trusted you. I believed in you. But now? Now, you’re only making me question everything. Who even are you, really?"

Arthur remained silent, but she could feel the tension crackling through the line.

"You keep calling Tryson toxic, but the truth is—you’re the one making things worse. You’re the one spreading lies, twisting everything into a mess. You’re not protecting me, Arthur, you’re just being pathetic."

Arthur gritted his teeth, the sound almost audible through the phone. "Angel—"

"Yes, Arthur," she cut him off, her voice sharper now. "And you know what? Stop calling the father of my child toxic. Stop spreading rumors about him. I won’t let you do this anymore."

A heavy silence settled between them, thick and suffocating. Arthur didn’t respond right away. For the first time, he seemed shaken—caught off guard, his usual arrogance crumbling. When he finally spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically uncertain, almost a whisper.

"What... did you just say?"

Angel exhaled, gripping her phone tighter. She needed him to hear it. Really hear it.

"I said," she declared, her words slow and deliberate, "Tryson is the father of my child. Not you. He has every right to claim that—you don’t."

She let the words sink in, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

And then—silence.

But this time, it wasn’t just tension hanging between them. It was the sound of something breaking.

Something irreparable.

This chapter is updated by freew(e)bnovel.(c)om