Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 353

Vivienne didn’t spare a glance for Christian; instead, her gaze landed on the woman beside her dressed in a ridiculous frog mascot costume.

“What do you think, Emmy?” Vivienne asked, her eyes flickering with calculation before softening into a look of helpless innocence.

With a sigh that seemed half pity, half resignation, she added, “It can’t be easy working at Donovan Entertainment, can it? Especially when the company clearly favors someone else, and you’re left behind, just selling your songs.”

No sooner had Vivienne finished speaking than both Christian and Tyler turned to look at her.

Their reactions, however, couldn’t have been more different.

Tyler frowned slightly, but Christian leapt to his feet, slamming his palm on the table. “Vivienne, what on earth are you talking about?”

Vivienne only offered him a regretful smile.

There was a hint of guilt in her expression. “I used your name. That was my fault. I’m sorry.”

She stood and gave a deep, apologetic bow. “I’m here today to settle this once and for all. Tyler and I want to offer you some compensation, and, in return, buy the rights to your name—so this song will officially belong to me.”

She glanced at Emmy—still sweltering inside the green costume—with a sorrowful smile. “I imagine you could use the money. It must be miserable, having to wear that heavy thing just to scrape by on a hot day.”

Christian looked as if he might explode.

“So, why not agree to my offer?” Vivienne’s voice was honeyed, almost tender.

Emilia, inside the suit, didn’t answer right away. Christian kept shouting, calling Vivienne shameless, and urging her not to give in.

“Emmy, don’t do it! The rights to the song are yours, and nothing can change that. Don’t let her bully you into this.”

Peering through the mesh of the frog’s mouth, Emilia could see Vivienne sitting there, so confident, with Tyler impassive by her side.

She coughed twice, playing up the part of the overworked, underpaid mascot who’d caught a summer cold.

“Mr. Erickson, what’s your take?” Her voice was deliberately hoarse.

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