Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 37

This time, he didn't look back.

In the dim stairwell, Emilia watched Tyler walk away.

As they reached the door, Vivienne glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Emilia. Her gaze was filled with mocking triumph, the smug satisfaction of someone who'd won.

Emilia closed her eyes, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

Of course. She'd lost—completely, utterly, irrevocably.

Why had she called after him? Hadn't she already known how this would end?

Was it stubbornness? Or was it because the child inside her carried his blood, too?

She'd told herself so many times: guard your heart, don't let it break again.

Yet here she was, breaking her own promise.

Tears kept falling, and a sharp pain twisted in her stomach.

She felt like she was unraveling, grief clawing at her chest until she could barely breathe.

"Joyce…"

She didn't know what else to do—she could only call out for her friend, desperate and lost.

Joyce was already weeping, tears streaming down her face.

She kept wiping Emilia's cheeks, but the tears kept coming, an endless river she couldn't stem.

"Em, this is all my fault." Joyce sobbed as she hugged Emilia tight, her voice shaking. "I'm so sorry, Emily. I'm so, so sorry…"

Pain blurred Emilia's senses. The world swam before her eyes, and suddenly she saw flashes from old dreams: her parents twirling across a ballroom floor, her mother's red dress swirling; a young, innocent Tyler with a hopeful, boyish face.

Pain.

So much pain.

Dad, Mom… What am I supposed to do?

Emilia's strength faded. She sobbed weakly, her cries turning into shallow gasps.

Just before she lost consciousness, her hand reached up, as if trying to grasp something—anything—but there was nothing there.

They climbed in, doors closing with a heavy thud. Vivienne fastened her seatbelt, but Tyler just sat there with his hands on the wheel, unmoving.

Again and again, he saw Emilia's eyes as she'd fallen—wide, searching, filled with pain.

"Tyler," Vivienne said softly from the passenger seat, "if you're worried about her, go back."

"We're still outside the hospital. If you want to see her, just head upstairs. I can take a cab home."

Tyler didn't answer. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Vivienne looked down, pulling a pack of wipes from her purse. She dabbed at her lips, wiping away crimson lipstick and traces of fresh blood—remnants from when Joyce had struck her.

She set the stained wipe on the console where Tyler could see it, sighing dramatically. "I lost my temper. I shouldn't have fought with Dr. McCarthy at the hospital. I know I didn't push Emilia, but…"

Her voice quivered as she leaned closer, taking Tyler's hand in hers. Her eyes shimmered with tears.

"I'm sorry, Tyler. I just—I just wanted to protect you."

Tyler's gaze dropped to their entwined hands.

But for some reason, in that moment, all he could think of was Emilia's hand in his, years ago, when he'd sat at his grandfather's bedside, terrified and broken. Emilia's hand had been steady, warm, comforting—so different from this cold, trembling grasp.