Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 9

Emilia landed hard, her fall anything but graceful.

Click, click, click—

A sea of flashes erupted, cameras greedily snapping up every humiliating detail.

Instinctively, Emilia's eyes darted toward Tyler, searching for a trace of comfort. Instead, she found only the cold detachment in his gaze.

She understood exactly what he wanted from her.

A sharp ache twisted in her chest.

He wanted her to step forward and tell the press, "It was all a misunderstanding. Ms. Vivienne isn't well, and it's only natural for my husband to show sympathy and care for someone who's sick. That's just common decency for a man, after all."

Her hand, pressed protectively over her stomach, tightened just slightly. Emilia lowered her head and let out a soft, bitter laugh.

Overhead, slow-moving clouds drifted across a blue sky. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the crowd, spilling in scattered patterns.

But not a single ray touched her.

Gathering herself, Emilia forced her emotions down and stood, slowly, with her back to Tyler.

Her voice was composed as she addressed the reporters, "I sympathize with Ms. Vivienne's illness. That's all there is to it."

"So, you and Vivienne are friends, then?" piped up a clueless voice from the crowd.

"Friends?" Emilia's lips curled in a cold, amused smile.

"No. Who on earth would be friends with a woman who spends her days clinging to someone else's husband?" Her words were sharp as a knife. Without waiting for a reaction, she turned and waved at Joyce, who had just pulled up in her car.

"Emilia!" Tyler's voice rang out behind her, edged with anger.

She ignored him completely, standing her ground with stubborn resolve.

Joyce swooped in like a savior, ushering Emilia into the car. Before she drove off, she shot a contemptuous glance back at the scene.

"Oh please, anyone passing by would think you two were the wife and the mistress fighting over a man. Honestly, have you no shame? Disgusting!" Joyce spat, her tone dripping with scorn.

"You—!" Vivienne bristled, ready to retort.

But Joyce cut her off without missing a beat. "What, did I say something untrue? If you're going to use the cameras to bully me, there's not much I can do about it."

Vivienne's face went from pale to deathly white, teetering on the edge of fainting.

The crowd behind them erupted in a cacophony of voices.

Meanwhile, Joyce had already whisked Emilia away; neither of them looked back as the car pulled off, leaving the chaos behind.

The place itself was no exception.

But over the past year, with Emilia's careful touch, the cold, impersonal space had slowly transformed. It was finally starting to feel like a real home.

Or at least, it had.

Joyce bustled around, directing the organizer, while Emilia crossed the room and picked up a bottle of Chanel No. 5 from a shelf.

It was the first present Tyler had given her after their wedding—a classic fragrance he'd brought back from a business trip to London.

She could still remember the trace of London fog clinging to him when he'd rushed home straight from the airport.

His embrace had been urgent that night; his kisses, desperate.

Back then, they'd seemed like any ordinary married couple.

She uncapped the bottle and spritzed a bit into the air.

The scent was familiar—comforting.

It was the same fragrance that lingered on her lips the night he'd kissed her after spraying it on her neck, a memory now bittersweet.