Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 55

CLARA kept mute for a while, her spoon hovering above her cup as she processed Amelia’s words. She slowly set it down and lifted her eyes back to her friend.

“A weekly boarding school?” she asked carefully.

Amelia nodded. “Yes.”

Clara leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“That is… that's a big decision, Ame. Hazel isn’t a child anymore. She is old enough to understand what this means.”

“That is exactly why I’m considering it,” Amelia replied. “She is old enough to understand consequences. What she is doing isn’t normal teenage rebellion anymore, Clara. It is calculated. It’s deliberate.”

Clara sighed.

“I hear you. I really do. But don’t you think she will see this as punishment? Or worse, abandonment?”

Amelia’s lips pressed together.

“She already treats me like the enemy. At least this way, there will be structure. Discipline… and space. Maybe some distance will help her cool off and rethink her attitude.”

“And what about Adrian?” Clara asked gently. “Have you thought about his reaction?”

Amelia scoffed softly.

“Of course I have. Everything has to circle back to Adrian, doesn’t it?”

“Well,” Clara said, “he is her father.”

“And when exactly did he start acting like one?” Amelia shot back. “When it was convenient? When he suddenly decided he wanted to play happy dad after years of emotional absence?”

Clara raised a brow but said nothing.

“He already has the boys visiting him whenever Hazel plans it,” Amelia continued. “Without informing me. Without courtesy. He lets Hazel take charge and then I’m the villain for objecting.”

“So you think he will oppose this?” Clara asked.

“I know he will,” Amelia replied flatly. “He will accuse me of trying to separate him from his daughter. He will say I’m punishing her because she doesn’t like my fiancé.”

“And… are you?” Clara asked quietly.

Amelia froze for a split second, then shook her head.

“No. This isn’t about Charles. Not directly. This is about Hazel’s behaviour. Her hostility and her refusal to respect boundaries.”

“But Hazel thinks it’s about Charles,” Clara said. “To her, he is the reason everything is changing.”

Amelia exhaled slowly.

“That is what scares me. She sees him as a rival. As competition with her father. And that is not fair. To Charles. Or to me.”

Clara reached across the table and placed her hand over Amelia’s.

“Sending her away might deepen that belief. Don't you think?”

“Or it might save her,” Amelia countered. “From becoming someone she isn’t. From turning into this angry, bitter version of herself.”

Clara was silent again, her eyes thoughtful.

“Have you talked to Hazel about this?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Amelia admitted. “I wanted to be sure first. I wanted to hear it out loud, from someone who isn’t emotionally tangled in this.”

“And Charles?” Clara asked.

“He doesn’t know either,” Amelia said. “But I know he will support whatever decision I make. He always does.”

Clara gave a faint smile.

“That is not always a good thing, Ame. Sometimes support should come with questions.”

Amelia looked down at her hands.

“I know. That is why I’m scared. But I’m also tired. Tired of tiptoeing around Hazel’s moods. Tired of my home feeling like a battlefield.”

Clara squeezed her hand gently.

“Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“That before you make it final, you talk to Adrian. Properly. And you talk to Hazel. Really talk. Not as a mother laying down rules, but as a woman who still loves her daughter.”

Amelia nodded slowly.

“For Adrian, I will try. But for Hazel—” she paused and sighed deeply, “it only depends on how she reacts when I bring it up.”

Clara held her gaze.

“Because once you send her away, Amelia… there is no pretending it didn’t change something.”

Amelia swallowed, eyes glistening.

“I know.”

***

Shantel arrived early, earlier than she ever needed to for anything that did not involve calculation. She chose a seat that gave her a full view of the café’s entrance but kept her slightly obscured by a tall potted palm. From there, she could observe without being observed, sip her drink slowly, and rehearse every word she planned to say.

She had learned Amelia Harlow’s habits well. Tuesdays. Early afternoon. Always the same café within the resort— her resort. Always the same private corner by the window, half-shielded by sheer curtains, where sunlight spilled gently over polished wood and soft cushions. Amelia liked quiet, privacy and control. Shantel smiled to herself. People like Amelia were always predictable once you studied them long enough.

She checked her watch just as the familiar figure walked in.

Amelia.

Poised as always. Confident strides. Neutral-toned outfit that screamed understated wealth. The staff greeted her warmly, respectfully, already reaching for her usual order. Shantel watched her settle into her corner seat, cross her legs elegantly, and accept the coffee placed before her with a polite nod.

That was her cue.

Shantel rose, smoothing her dress, schooling her face into admiration and warmth. She walked toward Amelia with measured steps, not too eager, not hesitant either. Just confident enough to belong.

“Hi, Ms. Harlow,” she said softly.

Amelia looked up, slightly surprised but not displeased.

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