THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 86: Tryson is the father...

Chapter 86: Tryson is the father...

"Tryson is the father of the child?" Alex’s voice wavered with disbelief, his brows furrowing as the weight of the revelation settled in.

But then, at that very moment, Arthur’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. A sinister glint flickered in his eyes—he could feel it, an unspoken truth hanging in the air.

Deep down, Alex must have felt a twisted sense of satisfaction.

After all, Tryson was his son, his blood, the rightful heir to carry on his legacy. It was only fitting that he would solidify his place in the dynasty, securing his grip over their empire.

Especially the one bound by blood, loyalty, and ruthlessness—the Mafia lineage.

The very throne that had driven both Tryson and Arthur into years of relentless rivalry, each clawing their way toward power.

A shadow darkened Alex’s face, his lips pressing into a firm line before curling into a deep frown.

A chilling stillness settled over him, and then, in a voice as cold as death itself, he asked, "And how, exactly, do you know that Tryson is the father of this child?"

His tone was quiet—too quiet. Patient, yet razor-sharp. And beneath it all, a storm was brewing.

At that moment, Arthur felt as though he was being backed into a corner, his mind racing as the weight of Angel’s words clawed at him.

His jaw clenched, his fingers curling tightly around the armrest of the chair, ignoring the dull ache that lingered in his stomach. The truth tasted bitter, but he forced the words out regardless.

"Your fake daughter was the one who told me that fact," Arthur spat, his voice laced with resentment.

The words felt like poison on his tongue, but he refused to swallow them back.

Alex’s expression shifted instantly, shock flickering across his face before settling into a deep frown.

Without a word, he pulled the seat beside Arthur’s chair, lowering himself onto it deliberately. His piercing gaze locked onto Arthur’s, unreadable, calculating.

"Angel told you that Tryson was the father?" Alex’s voice was steady, but there was something unsettling beneath it—something that made Arthur’s frustration boil over.

Arthur’s head snapped up, his glare sharp and filled with unspoken rage.

"So what, Uncle?" he hissed, his tone dripping with contempt. "I’m sure you’re thrilled. Now that Tryson is the father of Angel’s child, you finally have your perfect excuse, don’t you? The perfect reason to hand over your throne to your precious son—because an expecting heir changes everything."

His words hung heavy in the air, thick with accusation, but before Arthur could say more, a deep, dark chuckle rumbled from Alex’s chest.

The sound sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine.

As Alex lifted his gaze toward Arthur, he observed how casually the younger man lounged in his seat, exuding an air of defiance.

A smirk ghosted across Arthur’s lips, but Alex remained composed. Crossing one leg over the other, he settled into his chair with practiced ease, his expression unreadable.

Then, in a voice laced with cold calculation, he spoke.

"There was only one thing I ever asked from you and Tryson. If either of you wants to claim the position, you must bring Angel." He paused, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the chair’s armrest. "You know the terms, Arthur. If she finally signs the documents her father left her, then everything—every single thing Wang Liam owned—will belong to me. And, of course, to whoever possesses her."

Arthur couldn’t help but scoff, a slow smirk stretching across his face.

Of course.

What could be more predictable than Alex seizing this moment to his advantage?

The man was playing a calculated game, and Tryson’s unborn child was just another card in his hand—a powerful one, no doubt.

If Alex played it right, he could leverage Angel’s inheritance, securing an empire that had long been just out of reach.

"Really, Uncle?" Arthur’s voice dripped with irritation, his patience wearing thin.

The arrogance, the certainty in Alex’s words—it was infuriating.

Alex turned his head toward him, offering a single, deliberate nod. His gaze locked onto Arthur’s, and in that moment, there was no need for pretense.

"I’ve never gone back on my word," Alex stated, his voice unwavering. "And you expect me to start now?"

A flicker of something dark passed between them. And as Arthur met his uncle’s eyes, he saw it clearly—the unmistakable, insatiable hunger for power.

"And as you must know, Arthur... what you did—on the news." Alex’s voice was low, deliberate, each word carrying the weight of an impending storm. "Don’t you realize that Tryson will find out? Especially after you had the audacity to hold that press conference and spew those words so carelessly to the media."

Arthur chuckled, the sound rich with amusement as he leaned back slightly, unfazed.

His lips curled into a smirk before he replied, "I don’t think he’ll find out... at least not so easily. After all, you have a commitment to your wife, don’t you, Uncle? You wouldn’t dare let her down, now, would you?"

His words were smooth, laced with confidence, but the moment they left his lips, the atmosphere shifted.

Alex’s gaze darkened, his expression unreadable as he fixed his eyes on Arthur—predatory, sharp, unblinking. For a moment, it was as if he were sizing him up, ready to strike.

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, unexpectedly, a low chuckle rumbled from Alex’s throat, breaking the tension. There was something almost sinister about the way he laughed—like he was entertained, yet utterly unimpressed by Arthur’s boldness.

"You know, you’re quite confident... a little too much for someone your age." Alex’s voice was a whisper of danger, a promise of something darker lurking beneath.

He leaned in slightly, his smirk unwavering. "Tell me, Arthur... do you have a death wish?"

Arthur met his gaze, and instead of fear, his smirk only widened.

"Maybe."

"If I didn’t want one, I wouldn’t still be here," Arthur said, his voice laced with defiance.

Alex exhaled slowly, his patience thinning.

This brat. No matter how much he wanted to put an end to Arthur’s insolence, now wasn’t the time.

He had to play the long game, had to handle this moment carefully—at least until the right opportunity presented itself.

But one thing was certain. The only reason Arthur still had the audacity to stand before him, untouchable, was because of her.

His wife.

She was the shield that kept Arthur safe, the one obstacle standing between him and the reckoning that Arthur so desperately deserved.

For now.

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