All Chapters of Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

VIVIAN stared at her phone long after the call with Adrian ended, her fingers still lingering on the screen as if reluctant to let go of the moment. Only a few seconds ago, her lips had been curved in a radiant smile, her laughter spilling freely as Adrian told her he misses her too over the phone. His voice had been warm, casual, and filled with that gentle charm that always made her heart skip a beat. But now, as the line went dead, her smile melted into something unreadable, an emotion carefully hidden beneath layers of practiced composure.There was sadness in her eyes, faint but undeniable, lurking beneath the surface like a shadow that refused to be ignored. She hated this feeling. The bittersweet tug in her chest each time she remembered that Adrian wasn’t hers, not completely, not openly.As if on impulse, her hand twitched, and she tapped her phone on again. The screen lit up, bathing her face in a pale glow. She went straight to her gallery, scrolling through with determined

THE late afternoon sunlight slanted lazily through the half-drawn curtains of Amelia’s dining room. The table between them was modestly set, two cups, a porcelain teapot steaming gently, and a small plate of biscuits Clara had insisted on bringing along.Amelia sat opposite Clara, her spoon clinking softly against the rim of her cup as she stirred her tea in slow circles, her eyes lowered. Clara, leaning back comfortably in her chair, studied her friend with a knowing gaze.“So…” Clara began, finally breaking the silence that had been stretching between them, “you have been avoiding me, Amelia. Don’t bother denying it. If I didn’t push today, you would probably have postponed again.”Amelia sighed, shoulders sagging as though the weight of the words pressed her down.“It is not like I’m avoiding you,” she murmured, finally lifting her gaze. “Adrian and I only just settled things yesterday. I have been… angry at him.”Clara’s brow arched, though her lips curved in the faintest smile. S

HE sat up, now seated across from her. His face showed that concern. What about Leonard now? He needed to be sure what he heard.“About who?” his voice cut through the silence of the bedroom, his tone carrying both worry and irritation.“Leonard,” she repeated, softer this time, her gaze dropping to her lap as though saying his name was heavy.Adrian leaned back against a pillow. He could already feel where this conversation was headed. “What about Leonard?”“Talk to him,” Amelia said, her voice barely above a whisper now.Adrian gave a short laugh that lacked humor. “Why should I talk to him?”Her eyes shot up. “Because you are his friend! Who else do you expect to do it?”The irritation in her tone made Adrian rub his forehead. “Amelia…”“No, Adrian, listen.” She leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly together. “Clara spends virtually all her days at the hospital. Do you know what that means? The doctor’s office has practically become her second home. Every week, she is in an

THE faint glow of dawn spilled through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gray and gold. Amelia knelt at the bedside, her hands clasped, lips moving in quiet supplication. The steady rise and fall of Adrian’s chest on the bed behind her told her he was still lost in sleep.She whispered her final “Amen” and opened her eyes just as a sharp vibration broke the silence. Adrian’s phone lit up on the nightstand beside her. Curious, she tilted it slightly and frowned at the name flashing on the screen.The Automobile Guy.“Baby,” she called softly, giving his arm a gentle tap.He didn’t stir.She tapped again, firmer this time. He jolted awake with a start, blinking hard.“Hey, babe,” she said, pointing at the glowing screen. “The Automobile Guy is calling.”He reached out groggily, squinting at the phone before rubbing his eyes.“Why is he calling this early?” Amelia asked, her tone laced with curiosity.Adrian sighed, voice still heavy with sleep. “I told him yesterday to co

THE soft glow of amber lights bounced across the bar as the three friends settled into their usual corner table. The place was alive but not rowdy, low music drifting from hidden speakers, clinking glasses, and laughter from a group of young men at the far end. A waiter approached, laying down a bucket of ice and three tall glasses.“Your usual?” the waiter asked, already reaching for a bottle of scotch.“Yeah, line them up,” Jakes said, loosening his tie and leaning back with an easy grin. Adrian gave a small nod, scrolling briefly through his phone before placing it face down on the table. Leonard was already drumming his fingers impatiently, eager for the first round.The waiter poured generously, the golden liquid catching the light, before stepping back with a polite smile.“Ah,” Leonard exhaled, lifting his glass. “Finally, something to wash off the stress of this week.”“To the weekend,” Jakes added, clinking glasses with the others.They took a sip in unison, the warmth settli