Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 67

FINALLY — The Bahamas.

The chauffeur carefully lowered her suitcase in front of the tall double doors of the pent room, straightened his jacket, and doffed his hat respectfully.

“Welcome, ma’am. I hope your stay exceeds expectations.”

Amelia gave him a graceful nod, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“Thank you.”

He matched off down the plush-carpeted hallway, polished shoes barely making a sound, leaving her alone in the quiet luxury of the private floor.

For a brief second, she simply stood there.

Then she reached for the handle and pushed the doors open.

The breath left her lungs.

“Wow,” she was forced to exclaim.

The space was massive, not just big, but sprawling. The living area stretched out in warm creams and golds, the floor gleaming marble that reflected the soft recessed lighting overhead. A grand chandelier hung tastefully from the center of the ceiling, delicate crystals catching the light and scattering it like faint stars.

Directly ahead stood a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Not just windows. Glass masterpieces.

And one section slid open into a private balcony.

Amelia walked forward slowly, almost reverently, heels clicking lightly against the marble. She stepped onto the balcony and inhaled.

The city skyline stretched endlessly before her. Buildings glittered under the late afternoon sun, and beyond them, a faint shimmer of ocean water caught the horizon. The air was warm, kissed with salt and possibility.

It was beautiful.

Not loud-beautiful, not chaotic-beautiful. Powerful-beautiful.

The kind of view that reminded you how small your problems could look from the right height.

She rested her hands lightly on the railing.

“Ryan…” she murmured under her breath, a smile forming. “You outdid yourself.”

He truly had. This wasn’t just a room, it was strategy disguised as leisure. Privacy. Elevation. Space.

Exactly what she needed.

She stepped back inside and continued her exploration.

The dining area featured a sleek glass table set for two, though she would be dining alone. The couch was a curved masterpiece of soft velvet, paired with abstract art pieces on the wall that screamed wealth without trying too hard.

She moved toward the bedroom.

The king-sized bed stood at the center, layered with crisp white sheets and decorative pillows in muted gold. Behind it, a textured accent wall gave the room depth and warmth. On either side, nightstands held minimalist lamps shaped like delicate sculptures.

She walked to the closet.

Automatic lights flickered on the moment she stepped in.

“Impressive,” she whispered.

The closet was walk-in… no, not even, it was walk-through! Spacious enough to host a small meeting if she wished. Shelves lined with velvet hangers. A section for shoes. Drawers with built-in organizers. A full-length mirror framed in soft lighting.

Ryan had thought of everything.

Then she moved to the restroom.

The door swung open to reveal something that almost made her laugh in disbelief.

Marble, everywhere.

A freestanding bathtub sat elegantly near another glass wall that overlooked the skyline. A rainfall shower stood behind seamless glass panels. Twin sinks rested atop a floating vanity with gold fixtures gleaming under soft light.

She nodded slowly.

Satisfied.

Yes.

This would do.

And as for Charles…

She paused.

A slow, amused smile crept across her face.

He had outdone himself too, offering to sponsor this entire trip with that bold confidence of his. The memory of him scrambling to pay that restaurant bill flashed in her mind.

She laughed.

Soft and knowing.

Steam curled lazily in the air as Amelia reached for the plush white towel hanging beside the glass panel. She stepped out of the shower, droplets sliding down her shoulders and arms, and began dabbing gently at her skin. The towel was thick, warm, luxurious against her body. She wrapped it securely around herself, tucking the edge in firmly at her chest.

Next, she reached for another towel and lifted it to her hair, squeezing and drying the damp strands. She stood before the wide mirror, steam gradually clearing to reveal her reflection.

For a brief moment, she simply stared at herself.

Bare-faced, unmasked and calm.

The soft lighting above the vanity illuminated her features gently, sharp eyes, composed expression, lips set in quiet thought. She tilted her head slightly, studying herself not out of vanity but contemplation.

A faint smile touched her lips.

Then it disappeared.

She twisted the towel around her hair expertly and secured it into a wrap, fingers moving with practiced ease. Satisfied, she stepped fully out of the bathroom area, bare feet sinking into the soft rug.

The pent room was quiet.

Too quiet.

She reached for the bathroom door and pulled it open, stepping out into the bedroom.

And just at that exact moment—

The main door clicked open.

The unmistakable sound of a key card unlocking.

Her body froze.

A tall figure stepped inside.

“What the—?!” Amelia screamed, instinctively jerking backwards, clutching the towel tighter around herself.

The man reacted instantly too.

“Whoa! Whoa! I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in reflex as though surrendering.

They both stared at each other in shock— her wide-eyed and rigid, him equally stunned, halfway inside the room with the door still swinging behind him.

Silence.

Tense. Charged. Confused.