Arthur stared at the woman as she walked away from their premises, his gaze lingering as if tracing the echoes of a past he couldn’t escape.
Watching her disappear into the distance, he was pulled back to the mont years ago—the very mont that had set everything into motion, the reason he had beco the bank that funded her ambitions.
But that was only until she had served her purpose.
For now, she needed to believe she was invaluable, that she was a crucial piece in his ga.
And when the ti ca—when she was no longer of use—he had no qualms about erasing her from the equation entirely.
Arthur’s gaze shifted, settling on the cold, unyielding tombstone before him.
The na carved into the stone was one he once spoke with familiarity, now nothing more than a remnant of a past lesson learned.
He lifted the cigarette to his lips once more, inhaling deeply before releasing a slow, deliberate breath of smoke into the crisp air.
"You really can’t trust everyone, can you?" His voice was low, laced with sothing almost amused yet undeniably lethal.
He took another drag before continuing, his expression darkening. "You’ve played your part, and now... I have to ensure soone else keeps the secret of my company’s resurrection buried exactly where it belongs."
His eyes remained locked on the na engraved before him.
Stephanie Brown.
*
Right after the call with Arthur, Angel found herself frozen in place, stunned by his behavior.
Words failed her—she didn’t even know where to begin. But even in that mont of disbelief, a part of her knew he would call back.
He always did. After all, they had both been on edge after everything that had happened.
Yet, despite her attempts to brush it off, Tryson’s words lingered in her mind, echoing with an unsettling weight.
Why did it suddenly feel as though she couldn’t define what she and Arthur really were?
There was no denying it—they shared a relationship, sothing unspoken yet undeniable.
But what truly unsettled her was the gnawing realization that, despite everything, she felt like she didn’t belong to him.
She was on the verge of spiraling deeper into the thought, ready to dissect every lingering doubt, but just as quickly, she forced it away.
Now wasn’t the ti. Perhaps it was better to let it all go—to simply move forward and let life unfold as it was ant to.
Perhaps it was Arthur’s company that had helped her move on from the breakup with Tryson.
In a way, it had given her more than just a distraction—it had offered her purpose. The opportunity to build sothing within his world, to grow in a place like his, was sothing she couldn’t take for granted.
For that, she was grateful.
Angel let out a quiet breath as she turned her gaze toward the endless waves, their rhythmic motion calming her restless thoughts.
She sat on the shoreline, watching as the sun slowly descended, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson before fading into darkness.
There was so much she had planned to do, especially now that she needed to uncover the truth—was Sophia really the one who had told Arthur that she had confided in Tryson about the child?
The thought gnawed at her, but tonight, she refused to let it consu her. With a quiet sigh, she pushed it aside, choosing instead to embrace the serenity of the mont.
As the last traces of sunlight vanished beyond the horizon, Angel tilted her head toward the sky, a small, fleeting smile gracing her lips.
Sitting there, unmoving, she found herself wishing she could hold on to this feeling—that for once, she could have this kind of peace without the weight of the outside world pressing in on her.
But eventually, the stillness had to end—she needed to eat.
As Angel rose to her feet, she instinctively placed a hand on her stomach, a small smile tugging at her lips.
There was a quiet serenity in knowing she carried Tryson’s child, a warmth that filled her despite everything.
"Mummy’s going to take care of you, I promise," she murmured softly, her voice laced with tenderness.
With that, she turned toward the nearby canteen within the resort, her steps light against the sand.
As she stepped inside, she was t with the unexpected hum of lively chatter and the soft strumming of a guitar.
It seed an event was taking place, filling the space with an air of warmth and togetherness.
A faint smile crossed her lips as she placed her order, her gaze drawn toward the center of the gathering.
There, seated within a circle of custors, was a musician gently plucking at the strings of her guitar, the flickering flas of a bonfire casting a golden glow around her.
The lody wove effortlessly into the night, adding to the already enchanting atmosphere.
For a mont, Angel simply sat there, watching, letting herself get lost in the music and the mont—allowing, just for a little while, the weight of reality to slip away.
Angel was lost in the mont, completely engrossed in the soothing lody and the warmth of the gathering, when she suddenly felt an arm wrap around her waist.
Her body tensed, and a frown crept onto her face as she turned, wondering who had dared to hold her so intimately.
But before she could even react, she was caught off guard by sothing even more unexpected—a sudden kiss on her lips.
Her breath hitched, and she was just about to lash out at the audacity of the stranger when her gaze finally landed on the culprit.
Tryson.
He was already seated on the log beside her, his expression laced with mischief as he t her stunned gaze.
His voice ca out in a low, teasing murmur, his tone hoarse yet undeniably playful.
"Did you miss too much?"
Angel, still reeling from the unexpected kiss, felt heat rise to her cheeks.
Her initial shock lted into flustered frustration, and before she could stop herself, she nudged him firmly in the arm.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips, betraying the crimson blush now dusting her face.
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