Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 56

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THE grand double doors to the mansion swung open with a soft creak, giving way to a cascade of light that spilled into the vast living room. Vivian stepped in first, dressed impeccably in a cream-colored bodycon dress that hugged her curves like a second skin. The hem kissed her knees, and the neckline was daring yet elegant, accentuated by a golden necklace that glittered under the chandelier’s glow. Her stiletto heels clicked proudly against the marble floor, every step announcing her arrival. Draped over her shoulder was a small, designer purse, her prized Louis Vuitton, the perfect finishing touch to her ensemble.

Behind her came Adrian, rolling in a large pink box, the kind that suggested more than just clothes were inside. He said nothing, his face readable with a tinge of happiness, and there was the faintest curve at his lips as his eyes followed her movements.

Vivian gasped, her hand flying to her chest as her gaze lifted. The living room was breathtaking, drenched in soft light that bounced off the white-painted walls. Golden trims ran along the crown molding, and a magnificent crystal chandelier sparkled overhead, scattering tiny prisms of color across the space. The air smelled faintly of lavender and polish, fresh, clean, rich.

“Oh… my… God,” she whispered, her voice low with awe. She took a few careful steps further in, her heels echoing lightly. Her eyes darted from the sweeping staircase to the velvet drapes that kissed the floor, to the pristine glass coffee table sitting atop a lush Persian rug. Everything glowed with wealth, power, and exclusivity.

She smiled wide, her painted lips parting in sheer glee.

“This is heaven,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “This is… my heaven.”

Adrian stood quietly by the door for a moment, watching her like a man observing a child in a candy store. The faint smile lingered on his lips, but he said nothing. Then, without interrupting her joy, he gripped the handle of the pink box once more and rolled it across the living room, disappearing into the hallway leading to the bedroom.

Vivian barely noticed him leave. She was too captivated.

Her fingers trailed lightly along the edges of the glossy coffee table, the cool glass tingling under her touch. She let out a soft squeal, then spun slowly, taking in the high ceilings and the ornate detailing on the walls.

“This is it… this is my new home,” she said breathlessly, pressing a hand against her belly as though the child within her shared in the triumph. “No more sneaking around. No more hiding.”

She wandered toward the far wall, where a collection of portraits hung in polished wooden frames. Vivian’s smile faltered as she saw the faces, Hazel’s sweet smile captured in one photograph, Amelia’s poised elegance in another, and, centered among them, a grand portrait of Adrian and Amelia on their wedding day. The happiness in Amelia’s eyes pierced Vivian like a thorn, but she quickly straightened her shoulders, refusing to let it shake her.

She reached up and plucked Hazel’s picture down, shaking her head.

“This won’t do,” she said coldly. “Not anymore.” One by one, she took down the frames, stacking them unceremoniously against the wall.

When she reached the wedding portrait, she paused, a gleam of triumph dancing in her eyes.

“Your era is over,” she whispered, her lips curling into a smile. “Do you hear me, Amelia? Over.” With a short laugh, she pulled it down and leaned it against the rest.

“This house doesn’t need reminders of you,” Vivian said louder this time, her voice echoing softly across the room. “This house is mine now. These walls will see me. These walls will hear my laughter. Your reign is finished.”

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She dropped her designer purse onto the couch so she could free both hands, her movements growing more animated with each picture she removed.

“Your era is over, Amelia. Over!” she sang, a bubbling laugh rising from her chest. Each word dripped with delight as she repeated it again and again, “Over, over, over!”

Her laughter filled the empty space as she stepped back, admiring the bare wall.

“Much better,” she whispered, brushing her hands together like she had dusted off the past itself.

Vivian turned, snatched up her purse, and swung it back over her shoulder with a flourish. Her heels clicked again as she began striding toward the archway leading deeper into the house.

“Now…” she giggled, pressing her fingers against her lips like a girl about to share a secret. “Where is the kitchen? Let me see what my office looks like.” She broke into another laugh at her own joke. “Yes… my office.”

She tilted her head, listening, then raised her voice sweetly.

“Adrian!” she called. “Darling, show me the way to the kitchen!”

There was no answer. The house seemed to hold its breath, quiet except for the faint hum of the chandelier’s lights.

Vivian smirked, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” she called again, her tone sing-song now. “Show your woman where the kitchen is. After all, a queen needs to see her kingdom, doesn’t she?”

Her excitement didn’t dim. With her purse swinging at her side, she began down the hall, her laughter echoing as she disappeared in search of her “office.”

***

The aroma of roasted chicken and creamy mashed potatoes drifted through the air, weaving itself into every corner of the mansion. Vivian bustled happily between the kitchen and the dining table, her heels clicking against the polished floor tiles. She had insisted on setting the table herself, as though staking her claim on every fork, every plate, every napkin laid neatly before her.

The dining table gleamed under the golden light of the chandelier. Vivian hummed softly as she placed the last of the cutleries, aligning them just so. She stepped back, hands on her waist, admiring her work.

That was when Adrian walked in.

Her face lit up.

“Babe,” she greeted, straightening immediately.

“Vivian,” he returned with a small smile, and without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.

She chuckled, a light, airy sound.

“I’m glad you like what I have done with the table. It is… perfect, isn’t it?” She gestured to the spread before them, wine glasses, glistening plates, and the steaming dishes she had prepared with extra care.

Adrian nodded as he pulled out a chair and sat.

“It looks great. Smells even better.”

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She slipped into the chair opposite him, eyes sparkling as she watched him serve himself.

“I hope it tastes as good as it smells. I made sure to put my heart into it.”

He cut into the chicken and took a bite. His expression softened, his brows raising in genuine surprise.

“This is really good.”

Vivian beamed, her cheeks tinged pink.

“I knew you would love it. I told myself tonight had to be special.” She took her own bite, chewing slowly, savoring the moment more than the food.

Adrian poured wine into their glasses, sliding one across to her. 1

“To tonight,” he said, raising his glass.

“To us,” she replied, clinking hers against his.

They drank, and as the evening wore on, their conversation shifted to lighter, softer things. Vivian teased him about how he never admitted he missed her cooking. Adrian smirked, saying he couldn’t argue against good food. They spoke about Hazel briefly, though Adrian’s face dimmed at the mention, and Vivian, quick to shift the mood, leaned forward with a smile, changing the subject to how beautiful the mansion was at night.

“Everything here feels like a dream,” she murmured, twirling her fork in her hand. “But the best part is sharing it with you.”

Adrian glanced at her with something between amusement and resignation.

“You really know what to say, don’t you?”

She chuckled again, her eyes gleaming.

“Only the truth, babe. Only the truth.”

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