Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 41

SHE opened the door, and the image that greeted her made her breath hitch.

The woman standing on the porch was young. Much younger than her. Her dress clung tightly to her body, short enough to expose smooth, confident legs, the neckline plunging low as though daring anyone to look away. Her heels were impossibly high, her posture practiced. Heavy makeup sat boldly on her face— thick artificial lashes, glossy lips, sharply contoured cheeks, all giving her a polished, nightlife glow even in the quiet afternoon light.

For a split second, Amelia simply stared.

“Yes?” she finally managed, her voice steady despite the sudden chill creeping up her spine. “What can I do for you?”

The girl looked her up and down, amusement dancing in her eyes. Then she laughed, a light, careless and mocking laugh.

Amelia's eyes widened in response to that.

“Excuse you?” the girl said. “This is my man’s house. I want to get in.”

The words hit Amelia like a slap.

“Your… your what?” she asked slowly, her brows knitting together as though her ears had betrayed her.

“My man’s house,” the girl repeated, rolling her eyes. “Or—” she paused, stepping back off the porch and glancing around, squinting at the building, “—am I at the wrong place?”

She turned, surveying the compound, the driveway, the mailbox. Everything matched. With a shrug, she walked back onto the porch, heels clicking against the tiles.

No mistake.

All the while, Amelia stood frozen, her hand still resting on the door, her mind racing faster than her heart. This wasn’t funny. This wasn’t possible. This—

“This is my man’s house,” the girl continued impatiently, crossing her arms. “And I’m here to see him. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Something in Amelia snapped.

She let out a short laugh, sharp, hollow, entirely devoid of humor. Then she laughed again, louder this time, longer, the sound echoing strangely in her own ears. It felt surreal, like watching herself from a distance.

Without answering the girl, Amelia turned back into the house.

“Babe—” she called, her voice breaking slightly as she spun around—

And stopped.

The living room was empty.

Charles wasn’t there.

Her heart skipped violently. Panic surged. She scanned the space, the couch, the hallway, the kitchen entrance.

Nothing.

What?

Her breath came quicker now, chest tightening. In one swift, impulsive move, she slammed the door shut.

The door banged loudly, the sound final and decisive.

Outside, the girl yelped in surprise, immediately grabbing the knob.

“Hey!” she shouted, rattling it. “What is wrong with you? Open this up!”

Amelia leaned her back against the door for half a second, eyes wide, heart pounding like it wanted out of her chest.

“Open this door!” the girl yelled again, banging harder now. “You can’t just lock me out. This is my man’s house!”

Amelia pushed herself away from the door and walked deeper into the house, her steps unsteady, her thoughts spiraling.

What was going on?

Where was Charles?

And who exactly was that woman?

Amelia didn’t make it to the couch before Charles emerged from the room, phone still pressed to his ear, talking quietly.

“Okay, please, call her now,” he said firmly and hung up.

Amelia froze mid-step, lifting her right hand and pointing it dramatically toward the door.

“Who the hell—”

“Relax,” he interrupted gently, stepping closer, his tone calm but firm. “That is Marcus’s girlfriend. I have just called him. She will be leaving soon.”

Her hand slowly dropped, disbelief written all over her face.

“Marcus?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “His girlfriend… here?”

Charles shrugged casually.

“Yeah. Seems like he wanted to drop by.”

“But… what would his girlfriend be doing here?” Amelia pressed, eyebrows knitting in frustration.

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