Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 131

THE road stretched endlessly ahead of him, but Valentine barely noticed it.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles whitening with the pressure. The engine of Amelia’s car purred beneath him, steady and controlled, everything he was not at that moment.

His mind was chaos.

Vivian.

Amelia.

Adrian.

The past.

The lies.

Everything Amelia had told him replayed in his head like a broken record he couldn’t shut off.

He had sat there, in that living room, listening.

At first, he had thought it was impossible.

A mistake. A misunderstanding. But Amelia didn’t speak like someone guessing. She spoke like someone who knew.

Every detail. Every memory. Every pain she had buried beneath years of strength and survival.

And Vivian’s reaction?

That wasn’t confusion. That wasn’t coincidence. That was guilt. Raw and undeniable one.

Valentine exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening.

“Hmmm…”

The sound left him like a restrained growl. Then it clicked. The restaurant. That fateful day when he had run into Adrian. The way Vivian had reacted. The way her grip on his hand had tightened. The way her smile had faltered just for a second too long.

He hadn’t thought much of it then.

Now?

It made perfect sense.

“Damn it!” he snapped.

His fist slammed against the steering wheel.

The horn blared loudly, cutting through the silence of the road.

Vivian had lied to him. Not just once. Not just a small lie. Everything.

Or at least… the most important parts.

The kind of truth that defined a person. The kind you don’t hide.

His breathing grew heavier.

“How could you…?” he muttered under his breath.

How could she stand in front of him…

Laugh with him…

Plan a future with him…

And never once think to tell him that she was the same woman who had destroyed his sister’s marriage?

His sister.

Amelia.

The one person he would never betray.

Never.

The car turned into his street almost on instinct.

Moments later, he drove into the compound and parked neatly.

The engine died and silence followed.

Valentine sat there for a few seconds, staring ahead blankly.

Then he exhaled deeply, pushed the door open, and stepped out.

Each step toward the house felt heavier than the last. Not from hesitation, but from anger. From disappointment. From something deeper he didn’t want to name.

The door opened the moment he stepped inside.

Vivian.

She rushed toward him almost immediately.

Her eyes were red and swollen. Tear tracks still visible on her cheeks. She had been crying. A lot.

“Vale?” she called softly, her voice trembling. “Can we… can we talk, please?”

Valentine didn’t even pause.

“You will be leaving tomorrow.”

The words came out cold.

Sharp.

Final.

Vivian froze.

“Wha… what?” she stammered.

He turned to face her fully now, his expression unreadable.

“You heard me, Vivian,” he said. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m driving you to the airport. I will put you on a flight.”

Her shoulders dropped instantly, like something inside her had given way.

“No— no, Vale,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “This… this wasn’t what we discussed. I’m supposed to leave on Monday, not tomorrow.”

“Well,” he replied flatly, “I made it tomorrow. Is that a crime?”

She stared at him, searching his face.

Confused.

Hurt.

Afraid.

“No… but… there is no explanation for that,” she said. “You didn’t tell me why. You just imposed it.”

Something snapped.

“Just like you didn’t tell me the truth about yourself,” he shot back.

The words hit like a slap. Vivian’s lips parted slightly.

“Wh… what?” she whispered.

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