Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 196

A piercing scream cut through the air, snapping everyone's attention toward its source.

Chloe was the star of tonight's welcome gala, but now she stood drenched in red wine—making it impossible for anyone to ignore her.

From across the room, Tyler caught sight of the commotion and hurried over.

And then there was Emilia.

Emilia watched as a flustered waiter rushed to Chloe's side, handing her a towel to blot at the wine. Emilia's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

She hadn't come to this event hoping for drama; she'd come to negotiate with Chloe.

After all, Chloe had been the one to invite her to this soirée, the first to make things difficult for her. It had been Chloe who started the little wager, and when she lost, Chloe was the first to bend the rules in her own favor.

And that was just tonight. Never mind what had gone on in Cerulion during the fifteen minutes Tyler had been away, or the secrets tied up with Kaufman. The facts spoke for themselves: with Chloe's attitude, even if Emilia laid out every detail of what had happened that day, Chloe would twist it to her own advantage the moment things didn't go her way.

And now, Chloe dared to speak so brazenly about the Dennis family—about her father.

If negotiation was off the table, then so was civility.

If Chloe wanted to throw away her dignity, Emilia had no intention of picking it up for her.

"Emilia! How dare you!" Chloe snarled, eyes blazing as she raised her hand, ready to slap Emilia across the face.

But before her hand could land, Tyler was there, catching Chloe's wrist midair.

"Tyler!" Chloe spat, voice cracking with rage. "She ruined my entire homecoming party!"

Tyler turned to Emilia, his eyes cold and unyielding.

"Apologize," he said, his voice like ice.

Emilia let out a soft laugh.

Apologize?

He didn't even know what had happened, and yet the first words out of his mouth were a demand for her to apologize.

When the final note rang out, it sliced clean through the lingering whispers and awkward silence, earning her a burst of applause.

A bullfighter's march—how fitting.

And if Emilia was the one with the violin, the matador, then who was the bull?

Obviously, Chloe, still splattered in red wine. And perhaps Tyler too, so quick to demand an apology without a clue as to the truth.

Once, people spoke of playing music for the uncomprehending—now, Emilia played her violin for the bulls in the room.

She offered a graceful bow, and as she straightened, she caught sight of someone watching from a distant corner—someone who raised a glass to her with a knowing smile.

So, he was here too.

Their little stunt hadn't gone unnoticed; the two of them shared an unspoken understanding.

Emilia smiled to herself, set the violin down, and turned back to face Chloe—whose jaw was clenched so tight, it looked like she might shatter her teeth on the spot.