Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 97

"Wyatt!" Christian's anger finally boiled over.

He might not be able to do anything about Tyler, but was he supposed to be afraid of Wyatt too?

Without thinking, Christian stormed over.

"Christian, what do you want from your older brother? I'm just telling it like it is—you've been chasing after that Serena for days now. Still not tired of it? I'm not interested in being brothers with a lovesick puppy," Wyatt shot back, not bothering to mince his words.

"Watch your mouth!" Christian grabbed him by the collar. "Say one more word and I'll shut you up myself!"

Wyatt sneered, refusing to back down. "Go ahead, see if I care! But you'd better pray Grandfather doesn't hear about this."

The commotion quickly drew everyone's attention.

On the second floor, people watched with amusement as the brothers squared off.

George, for his part, looked ready to add fuel to the fire—until his older sister pinched his ear and forced him back into his seat.

"When will you ever learn to act your age?" she sighed, exasperated.

George pouted like a scolded puppy. "Big brother's the responsible one. Why can't I just be myself?"

If he'd had even a fraction of his brother's composure, talent, or ambition, the Glenn family's situation wouldn't be what it was today.

He'd understood that since he was a child.

"Enough." A voice drifted from the shadows at the table, quiet but commanding. The two brothers finally broke apart.

The auction continued.

At table 888—

"Tyler, so about this…" Vivienne looked uncertainly at Tyler, as if she wanted to smooth things over.

"She must really want that tanzanite, doesn't she?" Vivienne said, her tone laced with mock sympathy, though the spark in her eyes was anything but.

Tyler, however, paid her no attention. His dark, cold eyes remained fixed on table 823.

A tanzanite worth maybe a hundred thousand—most thought a hundred and twenty thousand was already pushing it.

Now the price had multiplied several times over, and crossing Tyler wasn't worth the risk.

So, the only one left in the game was the woman at table 823.

All eyes turned to the second floor once again.

And there it was—the same hand as before.

Pale blue nails, porcelain skin, calm and decisive as she lifted her paddle.

Everyone in the room sucked in a breath.

Even the auctioneer paused for a couple of seconds before calling out, voice ringing with disbelief—

"Table 823 raises to ten million!"