Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 114

“WHAT?” Charles staggered back as though the word itself had struck him.

Shantel didn’t flinch.

“I said,” she repeated evenly, “Sunshine is alive.”

The room felt too small. Too tight.

His ears rang.

“You are sick,” he whispered. “You are actually sick.”

“I’m not.”

“You told me she died!” he roared suddenly. “You said she died, Shantel!”

She looked away briefly, jaw tightening.

“You sent me a message,” he continued, voice breaking despite his anger. “You said she didn’t survive the illness. You said there was no money for treatment. You said you buried her.”

“I know what I said.”

“So you made me mourn my child!” he exploded. “I grieved her! I—” His voice cracked. “I cried for her.”

Shantel folded her arms, defensive now.

“You weren’t there.”

“I wasn’t there because I was working!” he shot back. “I traveled so I could provide!”

“You traveled because you always had something more important!” she snapped suddenly, years of resentment bubbling up. “It was always one trip, one opportunity, one connection!”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“You were happy once,” she continued, pacing now. “We were happy. But happiness doesn’t pay bills.”

“So that justifies lying about our daughter’s death?” he demanded.

She stopped pacing. Her expression hardened.

“You don’t know what it was like,” she said quietly. “Watching everyone around me move forward. My friends were upgrading. Traveling. Living large. Moving with men who could actually provide.”

“And you thought I couldn’t?” Charles asked bitterly.

“You were struggling!”

“I was trying!”

“You were surviving,” she corrected sharply. “There is a difference.”

He shook his head in disgust.

“You let those girls poison your mind,” he said. “They filled your head with nonsense about richer men and better lives.”

“They weren’t wrong,” she muttered.

His eyes widened.

“So you planned to leave.”

She didn’t deny it.

“You had already made up your mind,” he continued, connecting the pieces. “Even before you found out you were pregnant.”

At that, her face flickered.

“I was confused,” she said quietly.

“But when you told me you were carrying my child,” he said, voice trembling, “I was happy. I was ready. I told you to move in with me. I stayed.”

“Yes,” she admitted softly. “For a while.”

“For a while?” he echoed.

“You tried,” she said. “We tried. And then Sunshine came.”

His throat tightened at the name.

“She was beautiful,” he whispered despite himself.

Shantel’s face softened briefly. “She was.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

“Then why?” he demanded hoarsely. “Why would you say she died?”

Her eyes darkened.

“Because she got sick,” she said.

He froze.

“She was three,” Shantel continued. “Three years old and burning with fever. It started small. Then it got worse.”

“You called me,” he said faintly. “I remember you calling.”

“You were out of town.”

“I told you I would send money!”

“You sent some!” she snapped. “But it wasn’t enough. The hospital bills kept rising.”

“I was on my way back!”

“You were too late!”

The words echoed sharply.

He stepped closer. “What did you do?”

Her breathing grew heavier.

“She wouldn’t stop crying,” Shantel said, her voice lowering. “Doctors kept asking for deposits. I had no one. My so-called friends? Gone. Living their lives.”

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