Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 104

THE next morning, Adrian walked into his office with a lightness that had been absent for years, that lightness that carried glimmer. There was a quiet energy in his steps, something almost boyish that even the receptionist at the ground floor noticed but couldn’t quite place.

Inside his office, a small arrangement had been set up on the side table— pastries, chilled juice, and a modest cake that read simply: *Small Wins Matter.*

When Peter walked in carrying his tablet and files, he stopped mid-step.

“Sir… I didn’t remember the company bagging a contract or something of that sort. Why the celebration this morning?”

Adrian looked up from where he stood near the table and smiled, not the polite corporate smile Peter was used to, but something genuine.

“I don’t know if I should call this a little feat,” Adrian began thoughtfully, “but I think it is more than little. I invited Amelia into the house for tea yesterday evening… and she obliged.”

Peter blinked.

Then his eyes widened.

“What! That is great news, oh my!” he exclaimed, nearly dropping the tablet in his hand. “Sir, this is— this is major!”

Adrian chuckled softly.

“Keep your voice down before the entire floor thinks we are launching a new product.”

Peter hurriedly closed the door behind him and rushed forward.

“She actually came in? She sat down?”

“She did,” Adrian replied, leaning casually against his desk. “The boys helped. They wouldn’t let her refuse.”

Peter shook his head in disbelief.

“Sir, after all this time… she stepped back into that house?”

Adrian nodded slowly.

“She did. And we sat at the dining table. Just tea. Nothing dramatic.”

Peter folded his arms, studying his boss carefully.

“And how did it feel?”

Adrian didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted slightly, as if replaying the moment.

“It felt… right,” he admitted quietly. “For the first time in years, the house didn’t feel divided. The boys were laughing. She was smiling. It felt like…” He paused. “Like something that shouldn’t have been broken.”

Peter’s expression softened. “Sir.”

Adrian straightened, clearing his throat lightly.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not getting sentimental.”

“You already are,” Peter said with a small grin.

Adrian rolled his eyes faintly but didn’t deny it.

“Did she seem comfortable?” Peter asked.

“At first, no,” Adrian replied honestly. “She was guarded you know, typical Amelia. Ready to leave at any moment. But after a while… she relaxed. Not fully. But enough.”

“That is a start,” Peter said firmly. “Sir, do you realize how significant that is? She could have refused. She could have stayed outside. But she came in.”

Adrian nodded. “I know.”

There was a brief silence before Peter leaned closer.

“So what is the next step?”

Adrian frowned slightly.

“There is no next step. I’m not strategizing my ex-wife.”

Peter raised a brow.

“Sir, respectfully, everything in life requires strategy.”

Adrian laughed under his breath.

“This isn’t a business negotiation. I do not want a repeat of what had happened before.”

“Exactly,” Peter replied. “It’s more delicate.”

Adrian walked over to the table and poured juice into two glasses, handing one to Peter.

“I’m not rushing her,” he said. “I have done enough damage in the past by acting without thinking.”

Peter accepted the glass.

“You regret it deeply, don’t you?”

Adrian didn’t hesitate.

“Every minute of every day.”

Peter studied him carefully.

“Then show her that. Not with grand gestures this time, no. With consistency.”

Adrian leaned back against the desk again.

“You sound like a marriage counselor.”

Peter shrugged.

“I observe. I learn.”

Adrian took a sip of his drink, then exhaled slowly.

“When she left that house years ago, I thought she would come back after cooling off. I underestimated her strength.”

“She has dignity,” Peter said.

“Yes,” Adrian agreed. “And I shattered her trust.”

Peter shook his head gently.

“Trust can be rebuilt. Slowly. Brick by brick.”

Adrian looked thoughtful.

“You think she still cares? She has a fiancé, Peter,” he reminded her.

“If she didn’t,” Peter replied, “she wouldn’t have accepted that tea.”

Adrian’s lips curved into a faint smile.

“She laughed,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I hadn’t heard her laugh in that house in so long.”

Peter smiled knowingly.

“Then perhaps this is not just a small win. Perhaps it’s the beginning.”

Adrian gave him a look.

“Don’t push it.”

Peter chuckled.

“I won’t. But sir, allow yourself to be hopeful.”

Adrian’s expression grew serious again.

“Hope is very dangerous, Peter.”

“So is regret,” Peter countered.

That made Adrian pause.

After a moment, he nodded slowly.

“Alright,” Adrian said, raising his glass slightly. “To courage.”

Peter lifted his own glass.

“To second chances.”

Their glasses clinked softly.

Peter then cleared his throat.

“Should I inform the board that our CEO is celebrating personal victories now?”

Adrian laughed genuinely.

“Absolutely not. This stays between us.”

“My lips are sealed, sir.”

Peter turned toward the door but paused.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

His chest burned with something sharp and possessive.

“She can’t be serious,” he muttered.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing again. His mind raced in circles— anger, jealousy, wounded ego, panic.

Adrian.

The ex-husband.

The man who had betrayed her.

The man she had despised for all he knew.

And yet… he was the one she had tea with.

Charles picked up his phone again and stared at her contact.

Still nothing from her.

“She thinks I will call to apologize,” he said bitterly. “She is waiting for me to bend.”

But what if she wasn’t waiting at all?

That thought unsettled him more than anything else.

He imagined her laughing at Adrian’s table.

Imagined Adrian looking at her the way a man looks at something he regrets losing.

His stomach twisted.

“No,” he muttered firmly. “No, I’m not losing this.”

His pride battled with his insecurity for one final moment.

Then insecurity won.

“If she won’t call,” he said through clenched teeth, “I will.”

Not to apologize.

Not to beg.

Just to… check.

That was how he justified it.

He moved quickly now, restless energy transforming into action. He grabbed his jacket from the couch, slipped it on with sharp, impatient movements. His car keys lay on the console table; he snatched them up without hesitation.

He paused briefly at the door.

Was this desperation?

He didn’t want to call it that.

He called it clarity.

He called it reclaiming control.

But deep down, he knew it was fear— fear that Amelia was slipping through his fingers without a fight.

And Charles had never liked losing. Not something this valuable to his pocket.

He stepped outside, the evening air hitting his face as he locked the door behind him. His strides were purposeful, almost aggressive, as he walked toward his car.

Adrian invited her for tea.

She obliged.

The words fueled him as he opened the driver’s door and slid inside.

The engine roared to life.

“She needs to understand,” he muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I’m not someone you ignore.”

As he reversed out of the driveway, his jaw remained clenched, eyes fixed ahead.

He didn’t know exactly what he would say when he saw her.

He hadn’t rehearsed it.

But he knew one thing for certain was that he was not going to sit back in silence while Adrian slowly made his way back into her life, thereby pushing him away, shattering his efforts.

And with that thought burning in his chest, Charles drove off, heading straight for Amelia’s house.