Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 64

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…Few Months On…

VIVIAN reclined on the plush couch, one leg tucked under her, a plate of biscuits on her lap, and a cup of juice balanced carefully in her hand. The soft glow of the TV illuminated her face as she flipped through channels, occasionally nibbling at a biscuit. Her baby bump had already started to show, and she adjusted her posture, resting a hand over it and smiling faintly. It was a quiet evening, one of those rare moments where she could just relax, basking in the comfort of her home.

A few minutes later, she heard a familiar voice drifting from the hallway. Adrian, speaking animatedly, laughing lightly. She paused mid-bite, turning her head toward the sound.

“I know, right?” he said, chuckling.

“Yes Daddy. I hope you are taking care of yourself?” Hazel’s cheerful, innocent voice asked from the other end.

“Yes baby, I am,” Adrian replied, smiling as he walked further into the hallway.

“Ok Daddy, we will talk tomorrow, right?” Hazel’s voice held a mix of concern and affection.

“Yes baby. Be a good girl, huh? Don’t get into troubles,” Adrian said, his tone warm and teasing.

Vivian watched as he moved closer, the smile on his face widening. Hazel giggled from the other end.

“Yes Daddy, I won’t. Bye!” she said.

“Yes dear, bye,” Adrian laughed, ending the video call. He tucked his phone into his pocket and turned fully toward Vivian, who had been staring at him intently.

“Hey babes,” Vivian called, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Yeah, baby,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her gently on the lips.

“You look impeccably dressed tonight, and it is 8:30, where are you off to?” she asked, curiosity and a hint of worry in her voice.

The smile on his face lingered, warm and reassuring.

“I just want to step out, meet with the boys. We have a match to view. I will be back before 10:30,” he said.

Vivian’s eyes widened slightly, a worried frown forming on her face.

“Ahh! 10:30 is late,” she said, her voice tinged with concern.

“Babe, it is just to watch a match, have a few toasts, and then I will be back. Leonard has called and said they are already there,” he reassured her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

She looked down at herself, hesitating.

“Um… can I come with you?” she asked softly.

Adrian chuckled, shaking his head.

“Oh! No no no, remember what the doctor said, hmm? This pregnancy is very delicate, and you need to chill,” he said, his hand gently resting on her shoulder.

She pouted, disappointment flashing across her face.

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“But I miss hanging out with you,” she admitted, her voice quiet.

“Baby, don’t worry, soon, okay? Soon,” he said, leaning in to plant soft kisses all over her face.

“That is what you said the last time,” she complained, giggling through her frustration.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, smiling down at her.

Vivian’s lips curled into a smile despite herself.

“Come on, stop bribing me with that,” she teased, nudging his chest playfully.

He chuckled, holding her hands gently.

“I promise, soon. Now, you stay home, rest, and enjoy some biscuits, okay?”

“I guess… but only because you promised,” she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

Adrian leaned down, brushing a soft kiss across her forehead.

“I will see you soon, okay? Lock the door behind me,” he said, already reaching for the door.

“Love you,” she called after him, a mixture of love and playful exasperation in her tone.

“You too, baby,” he replied over his shoulder, a broad smile on his face as he stepped out.

Vivian watched the door close behind him, letting out a long, contented sigh. She settled back on the couch, her hand resting gently on her baby bump, the biscuits forgotten for a moment as she allowed herself to bask in the quiet of the empty room.

The soft hum of the TV filled the space as she flicked through channels absentmindedly, her mind lingering on Adrian’s laughter, his reassuring words, and the tender kisses he had given her.

Her baby kicked softly against her palm, and she pressed a hand gently over her bump, smiling.

“We will be okay, little one,” she whispered, talking to the life growing inside her. “Daddy will be back soon, and we will have our own little evening, just us.”

The soft clink of her juice cup against the saucer broke her reverie, reminding her of the simple pleasures of this evening. She leaned back, sipping slowly, letting the flavors settle warmly in her stomach. The biscuits crumbled slightly as she nibbled, each bite a small comfort in the quiet of the house.

***

The club was alive with music, flashing lights painting the room in every hue of neon imaginable. The bass thumped through the floor, shaking the bodies of everyone present as they moved to the rhythm. On the dance floor, Adrian moved smoothly, a glass of champagne in his left hand, the other draped around the waist of a striking woman whose laughter mingled with the beat of the music. Her dress shimmered under the lights, and her hand rested comfortably in his as they swayed together, bodies in sync. 1

Beside him, Leonard spun another woman around effortlessly, his signature smirk plastered on his face as he leaned down to whisper something that made her laugh. Jakes wasn’t left out either; a lady clung to his arm, her fingers drumming on his shoulder as they danced in tight, fluid movements, laughing with the carefree abandon of the night.

Adrian raised his glass, toasting with his companions before taking a sip of the champagne. His eyes scanned the crowd lazily, but they kept drifting back to the woman pressed against him. He wasn’t hiding anything; he didn’t need to. Life at that moment was indulgence, pleasure, and distraction. This was a different world from the calm,

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ordered home waiting for him miles away, a world where he could drink, dance, and laugh without repercussions.

Meanwhile, back at the mansion, the air was thick with a different kind of tension. Vivian sat rigidly at the dining table, her back straight, her eyes fixed on the large wall clock. The hands glared at her with brutal honesty, 11:45. Well past the time Adrian had promised he would be home. Her fingers drummed impatiently on the polished surface of the table, but her eyes carried not worry, not sadness… anger. Heated, burning anger.

She reached for her phone, its sleek body cold beneath her fingertips. She dialed Adrian’s number, her thumb pressing the green call button with deliberate force. The first attempt rang and rang, but he didn’t pick up.

She tried again, her voice low, taut with frustration. Still nothing.

The third attempt brought the voice of the network provider.

“The number you are trying to reach has been forwarded…”

Vivian’s eyes narrowed. She slammed the phone down on the table with a sharp bang, the cup beside it rattling slightly. Her right hand balled into a fist, knuckles whitening as she pressed it against the polished surface, letting out a hiss of irritation.

“What… is going on?” she muttered under her breath, her voice a harsh whisper that trembled with fury. “Almost 12am?”

Her gaze swept around the dining room, taking in the luxurious surroundings she now called home. The chandelier above gleamed, the polished floor reflected the dimmed lights, and the portraits lining the wall stared back at her. They were of the life she was supposed to share with Adrian, of the family he had pledged to keep together. Yet, the void where his presence should have been gnawed at her.

Vivian leaned back in her chair, letting out a slow, sharp breath. Her chest rose and fell heavily, the anger coiling tighter within her. Each tick of the clock sounded like a hammer, a reminder that she was left waiting, alone, and unheard.

Finally, she stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. She paced across the dining room, one hand still pressed to her temple, the other fisting against her side.

“He has no right,” she said sharply, as if speaking to the empty room. “No right to treat me this way. Not when I have given him everything…”

Her eyes fell on the phone again, lying innocently on the table. She picked it up, her fingers tightening around it, nails digging slightly into the sleek frame. Another call, another hope, another disappointment. She pressed the button, but the same message rang through, forwarded, unreachable.

Vivian’s anger boiled over. She slammed the phone down again, this time harder, and it bounced slightly, the screen catching a glint from the chandelier above. She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples, and a shiver of frustration ran down her spine.

“He doesn’t care!” she whispered through gritted teeth, pacing again. “He doesn’t care what I feel, what I wait through, what I give him…”

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