Chapter 121 121
ADRIAN stormed into Mrs. Harlow's living room that evening, pacing like a man whose entire empire was about to crumble, not because of money, but because of a woman. Mrs. Harlow, calm in her cream satin robe, simply sipped her tea and raised a brow.
“Mother, it is ridiculous!” Adrian ranted, his hands flying about. “The gossip columns are pairing Amelia with Ryan, her assistant. Her assistant, for God’s sake. What does he even know about her? He fetches coffee, carries files, and thinks he can step into my place?”
Mrs. Harlow set her cup down and folded her hands on her lap, her gaze sharp.
“Adrian, my son, when you chase a woman, especially your own wife whom you wronged, you don’t barge in like a wolf at every gala and dinner. You fight clean. She has already giving you a listening ear— that is a victory. Don’t ruin it.”
Adrian ran a hand down his face, groaning.
“Clean fight, mother? Do you know how much I have lost already? I can’t lose her too.”
“Are you telling me? All you have to do is learn,” she said simply, with the authority of a woman who had raised children. “If you want to win my daughter back, stop strategizing like it’s a boardroom takeover. Treat her like a woman, not a contract.”
Those words stuck to Adrian like glue. He left her house restless, but with a strange fire in his chest. The kind of fire he usually had when planning a billion-dollar merger. Only this time, it wasn’t stocks or partnerships. It was Amelia. His Amelia.
That night, Adrian returned home, dropped his jacket over a chair, and walked straight to the dining table. He didn’t pour himself a drink like usual. No. Tonight, he was a man on a mission. He fetched a fresh leather-bound jotter, his favorite Montblanc pen, and opened his laptop.
YouTube.
Then he went straight to the search bar.
Search bar: “How to win your wife’s heart back after messing up.”
There was a click.
The first video opened with an enthusiastic man pointing at the camera.
“Gentlemen, listen. You can’t just apologize once and expect her to forgive you. Women need consistency!”
Adrian nodded furiously, jotting it down. Consistency. Repeat apologies. Daily if possible. Then he underlined it twice.
Then he searched for another video: “Top five romantic gestures to melt her heart.”
Adrian leaned closer, pausing and replaying, like a student cramming for finals. Flowers. Breakfast in bed. Surprise notes. Learn her love language.
He muttered as he wrote: “Love language… what is hers? Coffee? No. Books. Definitely books. Should I buy her a library?”
He shook his head at himself, then clicked the next tutorial.
“Avoid jealousy traps. If she has a male friend, don’t panic— just prove you are better.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Better than Ryan? That is not even a competition. I own Ryan’s paycheck!” But he still scribbled: Stay calm. Outclass the assistant.
An hour turned into two. By the third hour, Adrian’s dining table looked like a professor’s desk. His jotter was filled with diagrams— charts titled ‘Operation Amelia’ with bullet points like:
Step 1: Apologize daily (don’t sound robotic).
Step 2: Create “spontaneous” surprises.
Step 3: No growling at Ryan in public. (Difficult but necessary).
Step 4: Remind her of history (but not the bad parts).
At one point, Adrian even attempted to role-play a conversation aloud.
“Amelia, I admire how dedicated you are at work. Also… you look stunning today.” He paused, winced. “No, too stiff.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Amelia, I missed you today. I can’t stop thinking about how brilliant you are.” He scribbled: Compliment her brain, not just her looks.
By midnight, Adrian had three pages of notes, two crumpled papers on the floor, and a laptop still playing another overly cheerful coach saying: “Remember, marriage is not business, it’s about heart.”
Adrian leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples but smiling faintly. For once, the CEO looked less like a man closing deals and more like a desperate college boy preparing for the exam of his life.
The exam was called Winning Amelia Back. And for Adrian Cole, failure was not an option.