"Alexander Johnson," The na echoed in Angel’s mind, gnawing at her so relentlessly that, before she even realized it, her legs were already carrying her toward the door.
A surge of urgency overtook her, and just as her fingers brushed the handle, she caught Tryson’s wide-eyed stare—pure disbelief etched across his face.
But she didn’t stop. Not even as she reached for the door—the very door that had been firmly shut for Riley.
"You said it was Alexander Johnson," Angel’s breath ca in uneven bursts, her voice laced with sothing raw and urgent.
Tryson froze, montarily stunned by her reaction.
He was just about to ask what she intended to do, but curiosity got the better of him—why did this na always shake her?
This wasn’t the first ti she’d tensed up at the re ntion of Alexander Johnson.
anwhile, Riley watched Angel with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Clicking her tongue in irritation, she folded her arms and gave a slow, knowing nod, her expression unreadable yet sohow mocking.
"What evidence do you have to prove it was him?" Angel fired the question at Riley, her voice sharp and demanding, as if she were conducting an intense interrogation.
The urgency in her tone wasn’t lost on Riley—in fact, it only deepened her suspicions.
There was sothing more to Angel’s reaction, sothing buried beneath her tense deanor. Good thing Riley had done her research.
But now, staring at Angel, she felt as if she were uncovering a whole new layer to the woman standing before her.
Taking a slow, deliberate breath, Riley locked eyes with Angel, her gaze sharp and unwavering, as if she intended to pierce straight through her soul. And then, without warning, she made her claim.
"Why do I need evidence to prove that Alexander Johnson was the one who did this?" Riley’s voice dripped with sarcasm, her lips curling into a smug smirk.
Angel stiffened, but before she could respond, Tryson stepped in. He couldn’t just sit back and watch Riley intimidate her—because if there was one thing Riley excelled at, it was getting under people’s skin.
And right now, she was doing exactly that.
"Riley, just stop this and leave," Tryson said, his voice calm but edged with irritation, the restraint in his tone barely holding back his frustration.
"No, no, Tryson—don’t let her leave," Angel cut in urgently, her eyes locked onto Riley.
Riley let out a dry chuckle, tilting her head as she folded her arms.
"Oh, hear that? Listen to this woman. Don’t let your actual fiancée leave. You might as well just send her away." Her words dripped with sarcasm, her gaze flickering between them with amusent.
But neither Tryson nor Angel had the patience for her nonsense.
Her words, laced with mockery, fell on deaf ears, dismissed like aningless chatter from soone who had nothing better to say.
"Angel, trust —whatever she says, don’t believe her," Tryson urged, his voice firm yet pleading as he tried to pull Angel back from whatever storm was raging inside her.
But in that mont, Angel could only stare at him.
She wanted to trust him. She wanted to ignore Riley. But how could she, when the very man she had spent her entire life trying to escape had sohow found his way back into it—without her even realizing?
The thought sent a shiver through her.
No, she couldn’t afford to be reckless. She had to find a way out before she was caught in his trap again.
Because if she didn’t... this ti, there might be no escape.
"I really don’t care, Tryson. Besides, you’ve known her longer than I have, and whatever she has to say, she’s going to say it right here—in front of both of us," Angel declared, her voice steady, though deep inside, it hurt to cast his words aside so easily.
Tryson clenched his jaw, wanting—needing—to say sothing, to make her see reason. But he knew Angel too well.
No matter what he said, her mind was set. She was determined to hear Riley out, no matter the consequences.
All he could do now was hope—hope that she wasn’t making a mistake by listening to whatever Riley was about to reveal.
She needed to be safe, and he had sworn to take care of that. But now, watching her unravel at Riley’s words, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was sothing more—sothing he was missing.
Tryson exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm despite the tension coiling in his chest. His gaze locked onto Angel, searching her face for answers he knew she wouldn’t give. After a beat, he nodded.
"Alright then. Do whatever you want. Listen to Riley—I will too. But understand this," his voice was steady, filled with quiet determination. "I won’t rely solely on her words."
He turned to Riley, and the shift was instant. Whatever patience had been in his eyes a mont ago was gone, replaced by sothing colder—darker.
"I want you to start speaking," Tryson said without hesitation, his gaze sharp as he turned toward Riley.
A slow, knowing smile spread across Riley’s lips. Without a word, she reached into her purse and pulled out a neatly folded stack of files, her movents deliberate.
"That’s everything you need to know," she said smoothly, unfolding the docunts with practiced ease. "I wanted to uncover the truth, and eventually, my n managed to retrieve the CCTV footage from the company where it all happened."
Her eyes flickered toward Angel then, studying her reaction, as if she already knew the weight of what she was about to reveal.
"Eventually, it turns out that Angel isn’t just into one man," Riley said with a smirk, her voice dripping with amusent.
Angel clenched her fists.
She could see exactly what Riley was doing—fanning the flas, stirring up tension. And the worst part? Riley wasn’t entirely wrong. But that didn’t an she had the right to run her mouth.
An ugly knot twisted in Angel’s chest, but she kept her expression unreadable as she fired back.
"You don’t know everything, Riley. So I suggest you don’t talk too much." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
Riley’s smirk didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of sothing in her eyes—amusent, challenge, or maybe even curiosity.
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