Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 39

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CLARA sighed heavily, her shopping bag dangling loosely from her wrist as she halted in her tracks. Amlap already sensing something at alert, had stopped walking too, staring at her friend with wide, expectant eye 4,

Then Clara spilled it.

“Well… according to Leonard,” she began, her voice a notch lower, “he said Adrian has a girlfriend that he has been keeping for three years now. Like his… mistress.”

Amelia’s breath caught in her throat. The bustling noise of the mall, the chatter of shoppers, the hum of background music, even the occasional squeals of excited children, all faded into a blur of silence. All she could hear was Clara’s words echoing in her head. Mistress. Three years. 1

Her lips trembled, but not a word came out. She stood rooted to the tiled floor, gripping the handle of her handbag so tightly her knuckles whitened.

Clara, uncomfortable with the silence, added softly, “Her name is Vivian. And she and Adrian… have been seeing each other. For quite a while now. So, Leonard said.”

“Three years?” Amelia finally managed to ask, her voice thin, strained, as though she were pushing the words past a lump in her throat.

“Apparently,” Clara replied, her eyes darting away, almost guilty for being the bearer of such a revelation.

And that was when it hit Amelia like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head.

The constant calls from the so-called automobile guy. The way Adrian would rush, almost too eagerly to answer whenever that particular contact flashed across his phone screen. The odd, hurried moments, like the morning he had leaped out of the bathroom, water dripping down his bare chest, lather still clinging to his arms, just to grab a buzzing phone.

They all dawned on her now. Puzzle pieces she had brushed aside, excuses she had fed herself, fragments she had ignored, all assembling themselves into one cruel, damning picture.

Her face drained of color, the warmth leaving her cheeks until she looked pale, ghostly even. Her eyes widened, glassy with unshed tears, staring blankly at the crowd of shoppers passing by. She looked on, stunned, hollow, her heart pounding yet feeling impossibly heavy at the same time.

As though she had just seen a ghost.

***

The late afternoon breeze swayed gently through the curtains of Vivian’s verandah, carrying with it the faint smell of hibiscus flowers blooming nearby. A small table sat between the two women, its glass surface catching the golden sunlight. Two cups sat there, each half-filled with an amber drink, something between juice and wine, that glistened in the fading light.

Vivian leaned back in her wicker chair, crossing her legs with that familiar air of confidence. Fiona, on the other hand, sat straighter, a book in her lap, though her eyes were more on her friend than on the words. They had been chatting about school, assignments, lecturers who were either too strict or too careless, and plans for the upcoming seminar.

“Honestly,” Fiona said, sipping from her glass, “if Professor Hugo gives us one more surprise quiz, I will just faint in front of him.”

Vivian chuckled, her laughter sharp and short.

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“You? Faint? My dear, you are too

carrying into the quiet neighborhood. For a while, it was just two young

They both laughed lightly,

theborn for that.” women, talking and sharingons.

Then Vivian’s smile lingered, twisting slowly into something sly. She rested her chin on her palm and said, “You know, I feel like God is working behind the scenes for me.”

Fiona raised a brow.

“Okay… what exactly is He doing?”

“Amelia and Adrian are fighting,” Vivian said with a mischievous smile, her voice dripping with satisfaction.” And this time, it doesn’t look like they would fix it at all.”

Fiona blinked, uncrossing her legs and sitting forward.

“And that is supposed to be a good thing?”

Vivian leaned closer, her eyes glinting.

“Of course. I mean, I have always been there for Adrian. I have been his peace, his comfort, everything he needs through thick and thin. Amelia? She is just there stressing him out. Always nagging, always complaining. I just wish he would one day realize it and throw her out. Then I will become his wifey.” She let out a low, wicked laugh, clinking her glass against the table.

Fiona’s expression hardened.

“So you think crashing another woman’s marriage is a good thing? A blessing from God?”

“I’m not the reason they are fighting, for the record,” Vivian said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “But come on, Fiona, let’s be honest, Amelia nags. She complains too much. Adrian needs someone who is understanding. She should be worshipping that man if she doesn’t know.”

“And what makes you think Adrian won’t leave you for another mistress once you become his wife? Huh?” Fiona’s tone carried both disbelief and warning.

Vivian laughed, almost hysterically, shaking her head.

“What? That would never happen. It is absolutely impossible.”

“Mm,” Fiona hummed, unconvinced.

“No, listen,” Vivian insisted, her eyes gleaming. “Adrian really loves me. He loves me so much. He adores me. The love he has for me is different from what he has for Amelia. I know that, I can tell. He would be that loyal thing I want.” She winked, smug and sure of herself.

Fiona exhaled deeply.

“And you think planning a future on another woman’s tears is all good? Another woman’s tears, Vivian? Look, even if you win, you will lose at the end.”

Vivian shook her head with exaggerated confidence.

“Nah. I won’t.”

“You will lose,” Fiona repeated firmly.

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