Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 51

THE Rolls-Royce Phantom glided smoothly to a stop in front of the posh bungalow, its polished body reflecting the soft glow of the estate lights. The engine purred quietly before falling silent. Almost immediately, the two backseat doors opened in near-perfect unison.

Two men stepped out.

Adrian emerged first, tall and composed in his tailored suit, his face carrying the familiar mixture of confidence and fatigue that had become second nature to him. Jakes followed, adjusting his cufflinks as his eyes swept over the house appreciatively.

The chauffeur remained seated, hands on the wheel. Jakes leaned slightly toward the open window and muttered a few instructions. The chauffeur nodded once, respectfully, before settling back.

The two men walked toward the entrance.

Leonard was already at the door, waiting.

“Gentlemen,” Leonard greeted, spreading his arms wide with a grin. “Look at you two. Still moving like kings.”

Adrian chuckled as they clasped hands in a firm handshake that quickly turned into a brief shoulder hug.

“Leonard, you old devil. This place suits you.”

Jakes stepped forward next, pulling Leonard into a rough embrace.

“You look good, man. Damn good.”

Leonard laughed, the sound deep and genuine.

“I will take that as a compliment, considering who it is coming from.”

They stepped inside, the door closing softly behind them. The living room was expansive, tastefully furnished, exuding quiet luxury without trying too hard. This was a house built for comfort, not noise.

“Sit, sit,” Leonard said, gesturing toward the couches. “Make yourselves at home.”

As they settled, memories seemed to hang thick in the air, memories of nights spent chasing pleasure, laughing too loud, drinking too much, and betraying vows without a second thought. Once upon a time, these three men had bonded over recklessness.

Life had since collected its debt.

A young man appeared from the kitchen, neatly dressed, carrying a tray with a bottle of light wine and three glasses. He set them down respectfully.

“No toast,” Leonard said casually. “Just pour.”

The young man did, handed each of them a glass, and quietly retreated.

They drank.

No clinking of glasses, not even a small celebration.

“Men,” Adrian said after a moment, studying Leonard closely, “you look healthy as fuck.”

Leonard smirked.

“I hear that a lot these days.”

Jakes nodded.

“Seriously. You look better than half the men our age pretending nothing is wrong.”

Leonard leaned back, swirling the wine in his glass.

“Come on. HIV isn’t a death sentence. People need to stop acting like it is. I just have to double— no, triple how much I take care of myself.”

His voice softened slightly as he continued.

“The pills, the routine, the constant reminders… it’s not easy. Some days are harder than others. But I’m alive. That counts for something.”

Adrian listened quietly.

“What is harder,” Leonard went on, “is living without my family. That is the part nobody prepares you for. My wife couldn’t stay as you already know. I don’t blame her. I destroyed the trust long before the diagnosis came.”

Jakes exhaled slowly.

“The kids visit,” Leonard said, staring into his glass. “Two, sometimes three times a month. And when they do, I become paranoid. Washing my hands like a madman. Watching every movement. Making sure I don’t even nick myself shaving and making sure we don't share personal belongings.”

“You can’t transmit it like that,” Adrian said gently.

“I know,” Leonard replied. “I know. But fear doesn’t listen to logic. I just want them safe. I already failed them once.”

Silence followed.

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