Semua Bab Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back): Bab 41 - Bab 50

THE kitchen smelled faintly of garlic and thyme as Amelia moved about, rinsing dishes and wiping down the counter. The day had been long, her body weary, but the silence in the house was heavier than the chores in her hands. She sighed, tying her hair into a messy bun just as her phone lit up on the counter.She glanced at the screen. ‘Mom.’Her heart softened a little. She quickly dried her hands on a towel and picked it up.“Hello, Mom,” she said, trying to mask the fatigue in her voice.“My daughter,” Mrs. Harlow’s gentle tone carried through the line, a balm Amelia hadn’t realized she needed. “How are you?”Amelia let out a faint laugh, one that didn’t reach her heart. “I’m managing.”“Managing,” her mother repeated, her voice laced with concern. “Amelia, you don’t sound okay. What is going on between you and Adrian, again? He just called me.”Amelia stiffened, her lips pressing together. “Of course, he did.”“Don’t be harsh, my child. He sounded broken, Amelia. He misses you te

ADRIAN returned home, his steps dragging as if each one carried the weight of a thousand bricks. The door creaked open and closed behind him, and the silence of the house pressed in on him like a suffocating blanket.He moved slowly into the living room.There she was— Amelia.Seated on the couch, her head leaned against the armrest, her posture weary and broken. She looked nothing like the strong, vibrant woman he had married. Now, she was a shadow of herself, her shoulders curved inward as though the world had pushed her down and she no longer had the strength to resist.She was backing the entrance, so she didn’t see him. But she must have heard the sound of the door because she did not flinch at his presence. Still, she remained crouched down and silent.Adrian stopped. He stood there for a long while, his eyes fixed on her frail frame. His chest rose and fell, but words refused to come. Finally, he broke the silence.“Where is Hazel?” his voice was low, careful, uncertain.Silenc

MRS. Harlow’s heart almost stopped. Her eyes widened as she turned fully and saw Claire leaning against the wall, arms folded, her face painted with satisfaction.“Have you been standing there, eavesdropping on my conversations?” Mrs. Harlow asked, her voice sharp and accusatory.Claire scoffed. “I was listening, not eavesdropping.”“Ha! Spoilt child!” Mrs. Harlow spat, shaking her head in disgust.Another scoff escaped Claire as she stepped closer, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “So… your Adrian isn’t such a perfect husband after all. He has finally messed up, just like mine jilted me. But unlike me, the wound is so deep.” She clutched her chest dramatically and let out a mocking cry. “Ahhh, Amelia! Poor Amelia!”Mrs. Harlow’s nostrils flared. “You dare mock your sister at a time like this? What sort of woman are you, Claire? Always looking for Amelia’s downfall instead of standing by her.”Claire rolled her eyes. “Oh please, don’t start. If I'm always looking for her dow

SHOCK was an understatement, Vivian was more than shocked. Her body froze where she sat up in bed, and the color drained from her face. She cringed as the figure in the doorway took a step forward.“Yeah, it is me,” Claire said, her lips curving in that smug little smile that sometimes made Vivian’s stomach churn.Vivian’s hand clutched at the duvet. “How… how did you get into my… my house?” Her voice wavered, caught between disbelief and panic.Claire leaned lazily into her seat. “Your house? Oh, Vivian… you really should be more careful with doors. People can just… walk in.”“W… what do you want from me?” she asked, her eyes darting between the three figures in the room.Claire’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it, only venom. She pulled her seat closer, the four heels dragging against the floor in a rhythm that made Vivian’s skin crawl.“I came to remind you of something,” Claire whispered, stopping just beside the bed. She leaned down, her face inches from Vivian’s. “T

CLARA had just touched down in LA, dragging her suitcase behind her in the echoing airport terminal, when her phone buzzed with a message. A few lines from another friend told her everything she needed to know: Adrian cheated. Mistress pregnant. Amelia broken.Her heart dropped. Clara stopped in the middle of the walkway, staring at the message. “Oh, Ame…” she whispered. Sadness washed over her; Amelia, the woman who always defended Adrian, whose mother painted him as the perfect man. That very man had let her down in the worst way possible.Without even waiting to get home, Clara unlocked her phone and dialed Amelia’s number. It rang and rang. Finally, on the fourth ring, a weak voice answered.“Hello?” Amelia sounded drained, like life itself had been seeping out of her.“Ame? It is me. Clara,” she said quickly. “Oh my God, I just got back, and I heard. So, Leonard wasn't just blabbing all along. Girl, tell me people are exaggerating.”A tired sigh came from the other end. “Clara