Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 3

At the parking lot outside city hall the next day. Tyler sat in his Maybach, his left hand drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

"Tyler, you and Emily have been married for a year now. You really ought to hurry up and give us a child," came the elderly voice through the phone.-

Tyler's expression softened, patient but slightly exasperated. "Grandma, we're still young. There's no rush." He added gently, "You should focus on taking care of yourself—and Grandpa, too. He—"

"How can I not worry?" his grandmother interrupted. "Your grandfather's better now, but we're both old. Who knows how much time we have left?"

"Grandma—"

She cut him off, her tone stern. "And don't give me excuses. I've heard some of the gossip going around. Tyler, you'd better not mistreat Emily."

Tyler fell silent for a moment, three seconds stretching between them.

Finally, when his grandmother pressed, "Do you hear me?" he pinched the bridge of his nose and replied, "I hear you, Grandma."

They exchanged a few more words before Tyler ended the call.

His fingers continued to tap aimlessly on the steering wheel as he gazed toward city hall in the distance, lips pressed into a tight line.

He unlocked his phone and scrolled through his messages, his thumb pausing briefly over a contact labeled "My Lover" — a certain florist. Ignoring it, he tapped on "Emilia's" chat.

The last message he'd sent her laid out the time and place for their meeting at city hall this morning, to finalize their divorce.

She still wasn't here.

With a faint scowl, he typed a message.

Tyler: Where are you?

A knock sounded on the window. Tyler looked up to see Emilia's pale face peering in.

She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, glancing at him. She was wearing the same outfit as yesterday — a combination she'd picked out for him.

For all these years, every detail of his appearance had been curated by her, from his aftershave and ties to the custom shirts and suits she ordered. She'd handled it all.

He'd imagined, once, what his child might look like—wondered when that day might come. Sometimes, when he and Emilia were together, he'd stroke her stomach and whisper in her ear, "Emily, when are you going to give me a baby?"

But—well. She'd never gotten pregnant. He thought. They could always remarry in six months. There would still be time.

Vivienne only had six months left.

Outside, the world moved on. Another silent beat passed.

At last, Emilia spoke. "One last time, Tye. Do you really want this divorce?"

"Having second thoughts?" This time, his anger was real.

Vivienne was waiting for him at home.

When Emilia heard his answer, she didn't argue. Instead, she took a document from her bag and handed it to him.

Tyler frowned as he accepted it. The heading read: Property Settlement Agreement.