Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 95

In Alden City, no man could rival Tyler's power and status. He was the kind of man women would practically claw over each other for, breaking a leg or two just for a chance to get close.

Yet now, that very man was willing to go so far—for her.

At this moment, Vivienne felt victorious.

All it had taken was a little maneuvering, and Tyler seemed utterly besotted with her.

Hopelessly, desperately in love.

Little Emilia? She was nothing.

Vivienne glanced at Tyler. His expression remained as calm as ever, his dark eyes fixed on Serena's side of the room, quietly waiting for her reaction.

Vivienne's lips curled up in a satisfied smirk. She couldn't wait to watch Serena bow her head and admit defeat.

On Emilia's side, Christian was about to lose it.

"What the hell is Tyler doing?" Christian shot to his feet. If Emilia hadn't touched his arm to calm him, he might've stormed over to confront Tyler right then and there.

"It's one thing for him to bring Vivienne. Fine. Letting her use his bidding number, fine. Even letting Vivienne compete with you for that tanzanite stone—I could chalk it up to him not knowing what's really at stake. But this?" Christian's chest was heaving with frustration.

"At a public auction, with reporters present, where everything will be in the papers tomorrow—for a single lantern, he's making a spectacle out of this marriage that technically isn't even over yet. Where does that leave you?"

He turned to Emilia, anger warring with concern in his eyes.

Everyone in the room understood—even though the auction was supposed to be private and the guests discreet, once they left this villa, word would get out. The reporters wouldn't miss their chance, and neither would Vivienne.

"Emilia" would become the butt of a very public joke, hung out to dry for all to see.

And that was with no one knowing that Serena was really Emilia.

If they ever found out…

Christian couldn't bear to imagine it.

They all wanted to see what the woman holding the 823 paddle would do next.

And then, from the shadows, a pale hand slowly emerged—still clutching that familiar paddle, number 823.

She raised it, revealing the number on the bidding card.

At the same time, the digital display on the auctioneer's stand changed.

Five million.

A new figure flashed before everyone's eyes.

The auctioneer stared in disbelief at the number, then looked back to the second floor where the pale hand hovered, double and triple-checking.

Finally, his voice rang out, loud and clear:

"Bidder 823 continues—five million!"