Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 62

The wind howled through the trees, as if it had carried the memories of seven years ago all the way to this moment.

Dead leaves drifted down in the sparse woods, swirling at her feet. Tyler, impatient with her silence, urged, "Say something."

Emilia stared at Tyler's long shadow stretching across the ground. "You should ask her what she said to me."

Tyler's brow creased. "Vivienne doesn't even know you."

The implication was clear—he thought she was making things up.

"Mr. Erickson." Emilia lifted her gaze to meet his dark eyes. "Do you really trust her that much?"

He didn't answer right away, but a strange, familiar feeling stirred in his chest.

"Mr. Erickson, I have nothing to gain by going after Vivienne," she said quietly. "Vivienne is your protégé. Compared to your status in Alden City, I'm a nobody. If there weren't a real reason…"

She gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Why would I risk everything and dig my own grave?"

Tyler's frown deepened.

Her words made sense. But what could possibly motivate Vivienne—a woman with only six months left to live—to go after a stranger?

In the end, his doubts tipped back in Vivienne's favor.

"Serena, whatever happened between you two, I hope you'll remember—she's a patient with barely half a year left," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Part of the reason she joined the show was to give strength to others suffering like her."

Emilia studied Tyler: the furrow in his brow, the conviction in his words, the darkness in his eyes. She recalled what Vivienne had told her earlier that day.

—

"In this world, it's all about the marketing game."

"You really think you're here to compete in songwriting? Donovan Entertainment invested in you for profit, for commercial value, for returns—don't you get that?"

—

Was Vivienne really so skilled at deceiving him? Or did he simply want to believe?

Emilia didn't know. And she wasn't interested in guessing.

She looked away. "Mr. Erickson, sometimes we see only what we want. What you think is beautiful might not be what it seems." It was her final warning.

He steadied her, his hand on her thin arm. The lightning illuminated the pattern of bruises trailing up her pale skin—darker, more severe than she'd looked on stage.

Thunder crashed, echoing in Tyler's chest.

A memory surfaced—someone else, years ago, with bruises just like these.

Grievous wounds.

Seven years ago. Emilia.

He could still see her sorrowful eyes from back then, vivid as if it were yesterday.

"You—" Tyler started, but in the next instant, she pulled her arm free.

She shrugged her coat back on and straightened. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Erickson."

"Mr. Erickson"—the formality snapped him back to the present.

Of course. Emilia had always called him Tye.