Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 58

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AMELIA pushed open the door and stepped into the small but cozy living room. The evening light filtered in through the cream curtains, painting soft golden hues across the space. Though modest compared to the mansion she had left behind, this place carried a warmth, a peace, that felt priceless.

On the couch, Hazel was seated cross-legged, her small frame bent over a sketchpad, tiny hands smudged with streaks of blue and yellow. She was painting with the intense concentration only a child could give. Amelia’s lips curved faintly at the sight before she lowered herself onto the single armchair across from her.

She picked up her tablet and began scrolling, her eyes darting quickly over emails and reports. Her businesses never truly rested. With a sigh, she set the tablet on her lap, reached for her phone, and dialed.

The line clicked almost immediately.

“Yeah, Rex?” she said softly.

“Yes, madam. Good day.” His voice was brisk, tinged with respect.

“Good day to you too,” Amelia returned. Her brows pinched slightly as she swiped at her tablet. “Rex, I just noticed something odd on the numbers you sent me for Satin and Sage. The logistics report from yesterday doesn’t align with the sales entries.”

There was a shuffle on the other end.

“I was just about to update you on that, ma’am. One of the suppliers delayed delivery, and the staff had to improvise. It caused some confusion in the records.”

Amelia hummed, unconvinced.

“Confusion is one thing, Rex. A three-day gap is another. I need clear figures, no loopholes. You know how delicate this is. We can’t afford careless mistakes.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will review everything personally tonight and send you a corrected report before midnight. Please don’t worry.”

She exhaled, her gaze softening slightly.

“I’m not worried, Rex. I just need you to stay sharp. Satin and Sage must run smoothly, no matter what.”

“Yes, ma’am. Understood.”

“Good. I trust you,” Amelia said, before ending the call.

No sooner had she dropped her phone than she dialed another number. This time, her lips tugged into a small smile as she read the contact name, Dorian. Ames Roses, her newest pride, needed attention.

He answered almost instantly. “Good evening, ma’am.”

“Good evening, Dorian. How are things at the shop?” she asked, her voice softening, carrying genuine interest.

“Busy, ma’am. Orders keep coming in. We just restocked the lilies and peonies this morning.”

Amelia leaned back against the armchair, her eyes tracing Hazel’s painting.

“That is good. But listen, I need you to prioritize one particular order. The minister’s daughter, the one getting married this weekend, did she confirm the bouquet design?”

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“Yes, ma’am,” Dorian replied eagerly. “White roses with a touch of lavender. She requested delivery by Friday morning.”

“Perfect,” Amelia murmured. “Make sure the roses are the freshest. I don’t want a single wilted petal near that bouquet. And prepare extra arrangements for her family home. Surprise them. Let them feel Ames Roses’ signature.”

There was a pause, then a smile in his voice.

“You always think ahead, ma’am. Consider it done.”

“Good. Keep me posted,” she said, ending the call gently.

Amelia placed her phone down, massaging her temple lightly. She hadn’t noticed Hazel watching her now, head tilted, curiosity gleaming in those innocent eyes. Then came the small, soft voice that pierced Amelia’s chest.

“Mommy?” Hazel called.

“Yes, baby?” Amelia answered, forcing her voice to stay even.

Hazel’s eyes dropped back to her painting as her words tumbled out.

“Daddy hasn’t still come to see us.”

Amelia’s heart skipped, the words slicing through her carefully constructed calm. Hazel’s brush continued gliding over the page, blue swirls mixing with yellow, as though she didn’t realize the weight of what she had said.

“Grandma told me he would come after some time,” Hazel added, her little voice steady, “but I still haven’t seen him. And you aren’t saying anything about it.”

Amelia sighed, her chest tightening. What could she say? That her marriage had cracked open like fragile glass? That her father’s love for another woman had pushed her to leave? She couldn’t put that burden on Hazel’s small shoulders.

So instead, she asked gently,

“Baby, do you want to talk to him?”

Hazel’s head shot up immediately. Her brush clattered onto the table as she sprang up and padded over. Her little face was hopeful, her lips pouted.

“Yes, mommy. I want to talk to him. I miss him.”

Amelia’s throat closed up. She nodded, stroking her daughter’s cheek.

“Okay, fine. You will talk to him.”

“Ye!” Hazel squealed, clapping her hands before flinging herself into her mother’s arms. “Thanks, mommy!” She hugged Amelia tightly, so tightly Amelia chuckled.

“Okay, don’t choke me, baby,” she teased gently, pressing a kiss to Hazel’s temple.

Hazel laughed, pulling back.

“When are we talking?”

“Soon,” Amelia replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from her daughter’s forehead.

Hazel smiled wide, her joy lighting up the little room. She bounced back to the couch and returned to her painting,

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