Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 34

The girl stared at her own hands in astonishment, her fingers dancing nimbly across the keys as a gentle melody flowed from her touch.

"Daddy, I really did it!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with delight.

Her father smiled and nodded, then glanced up at the woman leaning against the grand piano, chin resting in her hand, watching them both with a radiant smile.

The woman was striking—her features soft and elegant, her fiery red dress clinging to her curves, long, glossy curls cascading carelessly over her snow-white shoulders. She was the picture of effortless allure.

He patted his daughter's shoulder before walking toward the woman. With his left hand behind his back and his body bent at a graceful angle, he extended his right hand, palm up, in a formal invitation.

"May I have this dance, madam?"

Her lips curled with laughter. "Of course," she replied, placing her hand in his.

To the sound of the piano, the man, crisp in his dress shirt, guided her across the floor. The red dress spun in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze.

At the piano, the little girl played on, pouring her whole heart into each note.

A breeze drifted through, lifting the sheer curtain. She looked up and, through the window, saw a boy standing on a balcony across the way—a little distance off, but not far—on the second floor of another house. He wore a pale cream polo, British-style, and gazed quietly in their direction.

Dark hair fell across his brow. His eyes were black as midnight—calm, unreadable, yet sharp as a blade.

Years later, time sped by in a blur, and as Emilia gazed at that boy's familiar face, she saw it overlap with the grown-up Tyler's—mature, restrained, quietly intense.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Emilia's eyes snapped open in the hospital room.

The world spun. The ceiling, washed in white, seemed to rotate above her. Nausea twisted in her stomach.

The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air, her temples throbbed with pain.

She lay on the hospital bed, feeling as though she were tossed about on stormy seas. Fragments of her dream replayed over and over—the swaying figures of her parents, Tyler's dark, piercing eyes.

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She couldn't tell if they were for the ache in her body or the ache from the past.

"…Was it you who hit her? You tried to run off right after!"

The shouting outside grew louder—Joyce's voice, shrill and furious.

Was she being bullied?

Forcing herself to her feet, Emilia slipped on her flat slippers, steadied herself against the wall, and made her way out.

Down the hallway, near the emergency exit, three figures stood locked in a tense standoff.

Tyler, still in the clothes he'd worn that morning. Vivienne, now dressed in an elegant cream Chanel suit. Joyce, her white lab coat askew, clearly rattled.

They seemed tangled up in some messy confrontation.

Worried for Joyce, Emilia called out, "What's going on out here?"

"Emily!" Joyce rushed to her side and reached out to steady her.

Tyler, with Vivienne leaning against him, stayed where he was, his brows knit in concern as his eyes swept over Emilia, finally landing on the bandage at her forehead.