Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 117

FIONA gasped loudly.

“Goodness gracious!”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The living room suddenly felt smaller, heavier, as though the air itself had thickened. Fiona slowly leaned back into the sofa, shaking her head in disbelief while Vivian sat there staring blankly at the floor.

“This is bad,” Fiona finally muttered.

Vivian let out a hollow laugh.

“Bad huh?” she repeated quietly.

Fiona rubbed her forehead as if trying to wipe away the entire situation.

“Yes, bad. Very bad.” She leaned forward again, her voice lowering with worry. “I don’t like this energy at all, Vivian. I don’t like it one bit.”

Vivian remained silent.

Fiona continued, shaking her head slowly.

“Of all the people in the world… it had to be him?” she said. “Your past and your present sitting at the same table? That is not nice at all.”

Vivian’s lips trembled faintly.

“My messy past and my present,” she added with emphasis.

Vivian closed her eyes briefly.

“I knew it,” she murmured.

Fiona frowned.

“Knew what?”

Vivian leaned back weakly into the chair, letting out a deep breath that sounded more like defeat.

“I just knew it.”

“Knew what?” Fiona repeated impatiently.

Vivian laughed bitterly.

“I knew karma wasn’t done dealing with me.”

Fiona’s brows knitted instantly.

“Oh please,” she scoffed.

But Vivian had already begun spiraling into her thoughts.

“I mean think about it,” she continued quietly. “Why would he appear there? Out of all the restaurants in the city, he just had to walk into that one. And at that time? Why now?”

She shook her head slowly.

“Life is funny.”

Fiona rolled her eyes.

“Life is not funny. Life is dramatic,” she corrected.

Vivian continued as if she hadn’t heard her.

“I thought I had escaped that chapter of my life. I thought I had finally moved on.”

She pressed her lips together.

“But no.”

Fiona watched her carefully.

“Of course not,” Vivian continued. “The universe just had to drag him back into my path.”

Fiona sat up straight immediately.

“Okay, stop.”

Vivian blinked.

“Stop what?”

“This,” Fiona said firmly, gesturing at her. “This whole pity party you are throwing for yourself.”

Vivian frowned slightly.

“I’m not throwing a pity party.”

“Yes you are,” Fiona shot back. “And I’m not going to sit here and watch you drown yourself in unnecessary drama.”

Vivian scoffed.

“Unnecessary?”

“Yes. Unnecessary.”

Fiona leaned forward and clasped her hands together.

“Look, calm down first.”

Vivian folded her arms defensively.

“I am calm.”

“No you are not,” Fiona said bluntly. “You are acting like the sky is falling.”

Vivian looked away.

“Because it might as well be.”

Fiona sighed loudly.

“Vivian.”

“What?”

“Let’s think about this logically for a moment.”

Vivian gave her a skeptical look but stayed quiet.

Fiona continued carefully.

“Okay, so Vale knows Adrian.”

Vivian nodded stiffly.

“But that doesn’t automatically mean they are that close.”

Vivian didn’t respond.

Fiona raised a finger as she explained.

“You know how men are. They know plenty of people. Business associates, acquaintances, random connections…”

She shrugged.

“So it might not even be that deep.”

Vivian’s expression remained unreadable.

“They might not be that acquainted. Like acquainted acquainted,” Fiona added. “You know what I mean.”

Vivian let out a humorless chuckle.

Fiona frowned slightly.

“What?”

Vivian slowly lifted her gaze.

“It is that deep.”

Fiona blinked.

“What do you mean?”

Vivian leaned back into her chair again, looking completely drained.

“It is that deep for Adrian to know his full name is Valentine.”

The words hung in the air like a sudden explosion.

Fiona stared at her.

For a moment, she didn’t react.

Her brain seemed to take a second to process what Vivian had just said.

Then it registered.

Her hand flew to her mouth instantly.

Her eyes widened dramatically.

“Oh my!”

The shock on her face was almost comical.

She sank back into the sofa like someone whose legs had suddenly given out beneath them.

“Oh my God.”

***

For two and a half days, Charles had been coming to Amelia’s house like a ghost that refused to leave.

Every morning before the sun properly rose, his car would pull up in front of her gate. He would step out looking restless, tired, and desperate, then walk straight to her porch.

And then it would begin.

Knocking.

Calling.

Pleading.

“Amelia! Please open the door!”

Silence.

“Please, Ame. Just hear me out!”

Nothing.

At first he tried calling her.

When she didn’t pick up, he sent messages.

When she didn’t reply, he called again.

Soon the calls became endless. His name kept flashing on her screen until it became almost irritating.

Still, Amelia never responded.

Inside the house, she remained calm and unmoved.

She didn’t go to work those days, which was unusual for her, but fortunately the boys were spending the week with their father, so the house was quiet.

Charles, however, knew none of that.

All he knew was that he needed to speak to her.

Every day he stayed there from morning till evening.

He barely ate.

Sometimes he sat on the porch steps, sometimes he paced around the compound like a restless animal.

When night fell and the neighborhood became quiet, he would finally drag himself back to his car and leave.

But that didn’t stop him.

Once he got home, the calls would start again.

His name lighting up her phone.

Over and over.

“Thank you.”

He quickly sat down, though his posture remained stiff and uneasy.

Her eyes stayed fixed on him.

“Answers,” she said.

Charles swallowed hard.

“Okay… first, I want to say I’m sorry for lying to you.”

She said nothing.

“I do have a child, yes,” he continued quickly. “But I thought she was late. I mourned her for years.”

Amelia slowly turned her head to look at him fully. Her expression hardened.

“Do I look like an audience that needs entertainment to you?” she shot at him.

Her voice rose sharply.

“Does this place look like a cinema?”

Charles immediately shook his head.

“No, Ame, I’m not saying that—”

“Out with the truth,” she barked. “Or I get it out myself!”

Charles flinched slightly.

“It’s the truth and nothing but the truth that I’m telling you,” he cried, his voice shaking. “Believe me.”

Amelia remained silent.

So he continued.

“Yes… I had a daughter with Shantel when we were lovers. Many years ago.”

His voice grew heavier.

“But then I traveled one day when she turned three. While I was away, Shantel called me and said our daughter had fallen very ill.”

He rubbed his trembling hands together.

“I was still trying to process that when she called again… and told me our little girl was gone.”

His voice cracked.

“She said she had already buried her.”

Amelia suddenly sat up.

That clearly moved something inside her.

Charles looked down.

“So I mourned my Sunshine for years,” he whispered. “I never knew she was alive until three days ago.”

Silence filled the room.

A long, heavy silence.

Finally Amelia spoke.

“Why would I believe this?” she asked coldly. “It sounds fabricated.”

Charles leaned forward desperately.

“I’m being truthful, Ame. Shantel just wants to put us asunder. She wants to destroy us. Please believe me.”

More silence.

Then Amelia spoke again.

“But why would she?”

Her brows narrowed slightly.

“I thought you two ended things on a very rough patch. Why would she want to get in again?”

Charles quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“I have evidence.”

Amelia’s eyes followed his movements.

“After you showed me the text and photo she sent,” he continued, scrolling through his phone nervously, “I went to confront her immediately.”

He stopped scrolling.

“And I was smart enough to record our entire discussion.”

He extended the phone toward her.

“Everything is there.”

His hand remained stretched out between them.

Waiting.

Seconds passed.

Then a minute.

Amelia didn’t move.

Her gaze stayed locked on his face.

Charles’ arm slowly began to ache, but he didn’t dare lower it.

Finally—

Without a word—

Amelia leaned forward and snatched the phone from his hand.