Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 9

**TITLE: Hands Trembled Before Goodbye — Ryan Ellis 9**

009

A few hours had passed since breakfast, and the house had settled into its familiar routine, each corner echoing the tranquility of the morning. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft patterns on the bedroom floor, where Amelia sat perched on the edge of the bed, lost in her thoughts. Hazel had already departed for school, opting for the school bus today, leaving a quiet stillness in her wake.

At her feet lay a large brown basket overflowing with laundry, a chaotic mix of clothes from the previous day. It was a jumble of Hazel’s tiny, colorful dresses, Adrian’s crisp, professional shirts, and Amelia’s neatly folded blouses, each piece a reminder of the lives they led together.

With a calm determination, Amelia began folding the garments, each movement deliberate and precise. The steady rhythm of her hands contrasted sharply with the restless energy that filled the room. Across from her, Adrian paced back and forth, his polished shoes gliding silently over the floor. He was already dressed for the office, his tie perfectly knotted, jacket buttoned, and shoes gleaming as if they were mirrors. Yet, he remained in the house, his briefcase languishing on the armchair by the window, untouched and forgotten.

Every few steps, he would halt, casting a glance in Amelia’s direction, then resume his pacing, as if he were rehearsing words that eluded him. The tension in the air was palpable, thickening with each moment of silence.

Amelia, however, remained focused on her task, her hands moving methodically as she folded Hazel’s pink sweater, smoothing it out with almost exaggerated care. Only once did her gaze lift, catching a glimpse of Adrian in the mirror on the dresser. She offered him no more than a fleeting glance before returning to her work, her mind a fortress against his unrest.

Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by the buzzing of Adrian’s phone resting on the bedside table. The screen illuminated with Peter’s name, and Adrian’s eyes narrowed, but he made no move to answer it. The ringing ceased only to resume a moment later, persistent and demanding. With a frustrated groan, he seized the phone and answered sharply.

“What is it, Peter?” His tone was already laced with irritation. He listened for a moment, then snapped, “No, I said not now. I have more important things to handle than work right now!” He ended the call abruptly, tossing the phone back onto the table with a loud thud that reverberated through the silence.

Amelia didn’t flinch at the outburst. She continued folding another shirt, stacking it neatly, but a soft scoff escaped her lips, barely audible yet significant. The sound hung in the air, and Adrian froze, his pacing interrupted. Slowly, he turned to face her, the weight of the moment settling between them.

“You know…” he began, his voice dropping to a lower, more cautious tone. “I should have been there last night.” His eyes were filled with a mix of regret and longing.

Amelia’s hands worked on, smoothing a blouse before folding it in half, her focus unwavering.

He pressed on, his tone almost pleading, “For her… for you. But I wasn’t. And I am—”

She remained silent, the space between them swelling with unspoken words, filled only by the rhythmic sound of fabric being folded and stacked.

Adrian raked a hand through his hair, stepping closer, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Let me make it up to you, okay? Just tell me what you want. Tell me what she wants. We could go away, maybe… to the beach house. Hazel would adore it there, you know she would. The sea, the sand, it could be good for all of us.”

At his suggestion, Amelia finally paused. She set down a folded dress, lifting her eyes to meet his in the mirror, her expression unreadable.

“Hazel’s exams start on Monday,” she said flatly, her tone unyielding. “You want to take her out the day before her exams?”

The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, and Adrian exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging as if her voice had pierced through the fog of his thoughts. He had been trying to recite the right lines, but now he felt lost. Slowly, he crossed the room and lowered himself to his knees before her, a gesture of humility that spoke volumes.

“Then tell me,” he murmured quietly, “what other way can I make it up to you two? Just tell me, and I will do it.”

Amelia finally turned to look directly at him. Her eyes, weary yet piercing, locked onto his. For a long moment, she said nothing, allowing him to remain there, crouched on the carpet in his tailored suit, stripped of his usual power.

“Start by showing up,” she finally said, her voice steady and unwavering. “Even when it is not convenient for you.”

Adrian felt a tightness in his chest, his heart racing. He opened his mouth, but no words came forth, the truth of her statement rendering him speechless.

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