Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 203

Cindy leaned in, reminding her in a low voice, “During the voting round, make sure you clear the air.”

Emilia nodded. “Got it.”

A staff member off to the side was already urging her towards the stage.

She turned to Cindy and said, “Tell Christian this: real talent won’t be brought down by baseless rumors. As for everything else—let’s talk when I’m back.”

“Understood,” Cindy replied immediately.

Emilia turned and strode towards the stage.

Out in the audience, George was already showing their siblings the latest updates online.

“This is fishy,” George grumbled, glaring at his phone. “Someone’s clearly trying to sabotage her. With Serena’s skills, does she really need to cheat?”

The others scrolled through the news, brows furrowed.

Not far away, Tyler overheard the mutterings, his expression tightening. He glanced up at the stage, eyes narrowing at the masked woman standing there.

For now, the stage was shrouded in darkness. The cameras had switched to the host and a round of commercials.

Emilia took her place in the shadows, steadying herself as she looked over at the judges’ table.

Vivienne’s face was wreathed in a practiced smile.

Catching Emilia’s gaze, Vivienne mouthed something at her—“Beg me.”

Emilia smirked inwardly.

Vivienne had no idea. In the face of true talent, no amount of scheming could stand in the way. Even if people whispered about favoritism or rigged votes—what did it matter? If you didn’t deserve your spot, you’d be exposed anyway. Emilia had nothing to fear.

“And now, let’s welcome contestant Serena, performing ‘Journey’!” The host’s voice rang out.

The stage lights slowly brightened, revealing the masked woman in her flowing blue gown, her face hidden behind a matching mask, a clarinet in her hands.

As the spotlight sharpened, she raised the clarinet and began to play, coaxing out the instrument’s signature, lilting notes.

When the melody settled, she started to sing—softly, in the language of the region, painting a picture of a traveler swept up in the romance of Cerulion: lighthearted, carefree, dancing through the air as if weightless.

The lights dimmed further—then, suddenly, vibrant images exploded across the backdrop, shifting into scenes of ancient splendor.

The lights snapped up.

She reemerged, this time in dazzling festival attire, a new mask framing her features. In her arms was a lute.

She plucked the strings delicately at first, the stage awash in gold and crimson. Then, without warning, she struck several bold, thunderous chords—shocking, electric, as if a lightning bolt had sliced through the tranquility.

The audience sat up, eyes wide.

Onstage, the masked woman’s vocals soared, weaving a story of a traveler’s dream—a wild, vivid vision in a faraway land.

As the music built, she spun—and then—

“My God, she’s playing the lute behind her back!” someone in the crowd shouted.

With dazzling skill, the masked woman performed the reverse-lute move, her hands a blur, the notes ringing out with impossible clarity.

For a moment, everyone was utterly spellbound.