THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 93: Sir, there’s something important I need to share with you...

Chapter 93: Sir, there’s something important I need to share with you...

A few days before Arthur’s visit to the cemetery...

His secretary strode purposefully through the grand halls of the executive building, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floors as he made his way toward Arthur’s cubicle.

Upon reaching the doorway, he found Arthur focused on his laptop, deep in concentration. Seizing the opportunity while his boss was not preoccupied with a meeting, he cleared his throat and stepped inside.

"Sir, there’s something important I need to share with you," he announced, his voice laced with urgency.

Arthur’s fingers paused over the keyboard as he looked up, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.

His secretary approached, carefully placing a sleek tablet on the desk in front of him.

As Arthur’s gaze dropped to the screen, his expression darkened instantly. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes—shock, disbelief, or perhaps something even deeper.

"Are you certain about this?" Arthur’s voice was low, edged with a tone of skepticism and restrained tension.

Without hesitation, his secretary gave a firm nod, his posture exuding unwavering confidence. "Yes, sir. There’s no mistake."

Arthur exhaled slowly, his fingers curling slightly as he absorbed the gravity of what he was seeing.

Whatever was on that tablet had just changed everything.

*

Angel stood in front of the mirror, watching as the makeup artists, handpicked by Tryson, worked their magic on her.

Every stroke of the brush, every touch of gloss, was a meticulous effort to perfect her look for the grand event they were about to attend.

Elsewhere in the suite, the couple had separate teams working on them, each stationed in different areas, ensuring that every detail of their appearance was flawlessly executed.

It required several hours for Angel to complete the task, and during that time, she needed to take a brief respite.

The process for implementing the change continued steadily throughout the afternoon, lasting until the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon, indicating that evening was approaching.

And then, in what felt like a dramatic culmination of the moment, Angel was asked to position herself in front of the mirror once again.

A gradual, contented smile stretched across her lips as she absorbed the sight of her own reflection, taking in every detail and nuance.

While most attendees would be decked out in extravagant gowns and dazzling dresses, Angel had chosen a look that would set her apart—a statement of power, confidence, and undeniable allure.

She wasn’t just dressing to impress; she was dressing to own the room.

She wore a sleek, jet-black jacket over a delicate lace lingerie top, blending elegance with an edge of seduction.

A long, form-fitting skirt with a flowing silhouette hugged her curves, its subtle slit at the left thigh adding just the right amount of intrigue.

Completing the ensemble, she slipped into black heels and held a small silver purse, a final touch of understated luxury.

Her hair was styled into long, intricate braids, expertly gathered into a full yet deliberately messy ponytail, with loose curls framing her face.

Thanks to the skillful hands of the hairstylists, every detail—from her perfectly laid edges to the soft strands cascading over her forehead—exuded effortless glamour.

She had initially planned to wear her signature sunglasses, a classic addition to her bold aesthetic. But Tryson had informed her earlier—it was a masquerade party.

So, instead, she had already placed a mask over her eyes, ready to embrace the night’s mystery. Still, the sunglasses rested nearby, just in case.

As Angel admired the striking woman staring back at her, a sense of excitement bubbled within. She knew all eyes would be on her the moment she stepped into that ballroom.

But more than that, she couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of reaction would she get from Tryson?

Immediately following her moment of reflection in the mirror, the team that had meticulously assisted her in getting ready began to gather their belongings, gradually vacating the room and returning it to its original state.

Naturally, Angel seized the opportunity to capture a few photographs alongside the team just before their departure.

"Tryson," she called out, stepping out of her room with graceful urgency, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

She made her way toward the living room, eager to steal a glance at his outfit.

"Tryson, are you done?" she spoke again, her voice laced with curiosity as she moved closer to the other room.

The suite, once bustling with the rest of the team, was now eerily quiet, leaving just the two of them behind.

As she adjusted the mask on her face, Angel stepped further into the dimly lit space.

And then, she saw him—Tryson, standing in front of her with his back turned. A slow smile curled on her lips at the sight.

"There you are," she murmured, reaching out to lightly touch his back.

But as he turned to face her, something strange stirred within her chest.

For a fleeting moment, something felt... off.

Why did his presence seem unfamiliar? Almost as if he wasn’t the same Tryson she had known all this time.

"Tryson, what were you doing?" she questioned, a slight pout forming on her lips. "I called you multiple times, but you didn’t answer."

His silence lingered for just a second too long.

He wore his mask, just as she did, and she couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly striking he looked.

His tuxedo was perfectly tailored, hugging his frame with precision. His jet-black hair, now dyed with hints of light brown for the occasion, added a touch of sophistication.

And yet... something wasn’t right.

Could it be his strange scent?

Angel’s instincts whispered warnings, but she hesitated, brushing the thought aside.

Maybe it was just the effect of the masquerade theme. The eerie mystery of hidden faces was likely playing tricks on her mind.

Shaking off the unsettling feeling, she exhaled softly and smiled. Tonight was about enjoying herself. Nothing more.

"So, how is my outfit?" she asked, her tone light and casual, expecting Tryson’s response.

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