Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 106

CHARLES stood there for a second longer than necessary after she said no.

It didn’t register immediately.

Amelia… refusing him? He still couldn't get it.

In the past, even when upset, she would soften at the edges. A little coaxing, a little charm, and she would agree. She liked being persuaded. She liked feeling want. She craved attention. Her man's attention.

But this Amelia?

She hadn’t even hesitated.

“No.”

The word replayed in his head.

He forced a small laugh, trying to recover his footing.

“You are still upset, my love.”

“I said I’m not, Charles,” she replied calmly.

“Then come on,” he insisted lightly. “You need fresh air. You have been cooped up since you got back.”

“I said I’m staying in tonight.”

To make things worse for him, there was no sharpness in her tone, not even irritation. Just certainty.

That certainty unsettled him.

He watched her move toward the hallway table, casually picking up a glass of water like this conversation wasn’t tilting his balance.

Maybe she hasn’t fully forgiven me.

That must be it.

He stepped closer, softening his expression again.

“Amelia.”

She looked up.

“Look at me.”

She did.

“I said I’m sorry,” he continued, lowering his voice into that familiar warmth. “I meant it.”

“I heard you.”

“Then why does it still feel like there is a wall between us?”

Her lips curved slightly, knowingly.

“Maybe there is.”

The honesty made his chest tighten.

He moved closer, careful not to appear aggressive this time.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured. “Don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out.”

“It feels like you are.”

She took a slow sip of water before answering.

“You are not used to not being centered, Charles. That is just it.”

The statement landed quietly but heavily.

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means my life doesn’t pause when we have tension.”

He studied her face, searching for accusation, but there was none. Just composure.

He tried again.

“Alright. Maybe I deserve that,” he said, nodding as if conceding ground. “I was insecure. The whole Adrian thing caught me off guard.”

She didn’t respond.

“I just… I didn’t like imagining you there,” he admitted. “In his space.”

Her gaze remained steady.

“That sounds like something you need to work through.”

He blinked.

Not: I understand.

Not: I won’t do it again.

Something you need to work through.

He swallowed.

This conversation was slipping from his control in ways he didn’t recognize.

He stepped even closer, reaching for her hand. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t squeeze back either.

“I don’t want us drifting,” he said softly. “I don’t like this distance.”

“There is no distance,” she replied gently. “There is just balance.”

Balance.

Since when did she talk like this?

He tried to smile.

“Okay. Then let’s balance outside over dinner.”

She laughed softly.

The laugh wasn’t sarcastic, neither was it cold nor light.

“Oh please,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “I’m just tired and can’t afford to step out.”

The words were simple and casual, but they stunned him all over again.

Tired?

This was the woman who would dress up at the slightest invitation.

The woman who once waited for him to decide her evening. Now she was… declining because she felt like resting?

“You are serious?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Yes.”

She smiled faintly, almost amused by his disbelief.

“I traveled,” she added. “I have been settling in. The boys have activities tomorrow. I just want a quiet night.”

He searched her expression for hidden meaning. There was none.

No punishment. No drama. Just choice.

And that was what unsettled him the most.

He cleared his throat. “So… another time?”

“Maybe.”

He hesitated, pride pricking at him again. Part of him wanted to push harder, to remind her how easily he could withdraw attention too.

But something about the way she stood there— calm, unbothered, unafraid of losing the moment— made him cautious.

He couldn’t afford to misstep again.

Not now. Not when things were already going south.

So he forced a relaxed nod.

“Alright. If you are tired, I understand.”

Her smile widened slightly. “Thank you.”

He studied her face.

She looked peaceful. Too peaceful.

“Get some rest then,” he said.

“I will.”

He lingered a second longer, as though waiting for her to add something.

She didn’t.

Reluctantly, he nodded once more.

“Okay.”

And though he agreed, tried to appear understanding, the uneasy realization sat heavily in his chest as he watched her walk him to the door.

***

Tuesday came with a brightness Shantel hadn’t felt in days.

Amelia was back.

Finally, the idiot decided to return.

The message had reached her the night before, and she had barely slept. Not from anxiety, but from anticipation.

Amelia was back, her routine would continue. And routine was a weapon.

And Shantel loved weapons that didn’t look like weapons.

By the time she walked into the resort cafeteria, she had perfected her smile, putting up a warm, effortless, harmless smile.

She spotted Amelia immediately. Bingo!

Seated alone at that corner coffee table near the glass panels, sunlight spilling across her face, a cup resting lightly between her fingers. Looking calm and composed as always. Like she had never been shaken by anything.

Shantel inhaled slowly and walked over.

“Amelia!” she called gently, as though pleasantly surprised.

Amelia looked up.

“Shantel,” she said smoothly.

Not surprised, not overly warm. Just steady.

“I heard you were back!” Shantel said, pulling out the chair opposite her without waiting for full invitation. “How was your trip?”

“It was productive,” Amelia replied, taking a slow sip. ‘But how did she know she went for a trip? Hmph’

“Productive?” Shantel laughed lightly. “That sounds serious. Not relaxing?”

“It was what I needed.”

Shantel tilted her head.

“Well, you look refreshed.”

“Thank you.”

There was no elaboration.

“You are very guarded,” she was forced to say.

“I’m very peaceful.”

The answer frustrated her more than she expected.

She tried again.

“You know,” Shantel said softly, lowering her voice as if sharing sisterly wisdom, “sometimes the strongest women stay too long because they believe they can fix things.”

Amelia nodded thoughtfully.

“And sometimes outsiders assume there is something broken.”

Silence fell between them.

Shantel’s jaw tightened for a split second before she masked it with another smile.

“You are hard to read,” she said lightly.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

Amelia leaned back in her chair.

“Now that is intentional.”

There it was. A subtle warning.

Shantel felt heat rise in her chest, but she swallowed it.

“Anyway,” she said brightly, checking her phone as if suddenly busy, “I didn’t mean to interrogate you.”

“I didn’t feel interrogated.”

That somehow made it worse.

Shantel picked up her coffee, taking a sip she didn’t need.

“So you and Charles are… good?”

“Very good.”

“And Adrian?” she asked casually, pretending to remember something trivial. “You two co-parent peacefully?”

“Of course.”

“That must be complicated.”

“It’s disciplined.”

Disciplined?

What kind of answer was that?

Shantel’s patience was beginning to thin down.

“And Charles doesn’t mind?”

Amelia smiled faintly.

“Charles manages.”

Manages?

Shantel set her cup down a little too firmly before correcting herself with a soft laugh.

“You are impressive,” she said sweetly. “Really.”

“Thank you.”

The simplicity was suffocating.

No defensiveness. No oversharing. No cracks. Just calm control.

Shantel suddenly felt like she was the one being studied.

The frustration simmered beneath her polished exterior. She had expected jealousy. Confusion. At least a complaint. A loop. Anything to get a hold on.

Instead, Amelia gave her nothing.

Nothing to twist. Nothing to weaponize. Nothing to use.

And that was dangerous.

“Well,” Shantel said finally, rising from her seat with practiced grace, “I actually have to run. I just wanted to say welcome back.”

“How thoughtful,” Amelia replied, standing as well.

Shantel leaned in slightly.

“We should talk again soon.”

“I’m sure we will.”

The words were pleasant.

But they carried weight.

Shantel held her smile until she turned away. Only when she reached the exit did her expression falter.

Her jaw tightened, her eyes followed, darkening.

Amelia wasn’t naive. And worse, she wasn’t reactive.

And that meant Shantel would have to try something far more strategic next time.

Because subtle probing wasn’t working.

Not on a woman who already seemed to know the game.