Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 447

“I didn’t know I’d hurt her. I blame myself. I’ve thought about it for so long, and I can’t stand the person I’ve become. That’s why I…”

“I’m sorry.”

Vivienne’s tears flowed freely, her sobs shaking her shoulders as she spoke.

She’d been planning this for some time—the folding knife was stashed in her pocket, and she’d made sure to cut herself right in front of Secretary Jensen.

She knew Israel would rush over and stop her the moment he saw what she was doing, so she never intended to make it deep—just a shallow scratch, enough to break the skin before Israel grabbed her arm. All she had to do then was collapse into loud, helpless tears.

Her crying grew louder. “Even when I try to hurt myself, I just end up causing you more trouble.”

Between sobs, Vivienne stole a glance at Tyler, searching desperately for any sign of sympathy.

But ever since he’d walked into the room, Tyler’s expression hadn’t changed—he remained cold, detached, unreadable.

Vivienne was still trying to figure out his mood when, all of a sudden, Tyler let out a laugh.

He actually laughed, right there in the hospital room, and the sound was so out of place that Vivienne froze in confusion.

“Tyler?” she whimpered, voice trembling.

“Are you enjoying the show?” Tyler’s tone was icy, his eyes fixed on her with open contempt.

He’d given Vivienne one final chance—an opportunity to come clean, to finally be honest with him.

But even now, she was still playing games, still hiding behind her pitiful act.

Her performance was so transparent, so clumsy, it was almost laughable.

He laughed at her. And, even more, he laughed at himself—for ever having believed her.

“Tyler, I don’t understand what you mean,” Vivienne stammered, her voice growing small as fear crept in, though she kept up her tears.

“You don’t understand?” His laughter faded, leaving only a biting chill in the air.

A knock sounded at the door.

Israel stepped inside, carrying a manila folder and a thick stack of papers, which he handed to Tyler.

“Mr. Erickson, here are the documents you requested. The person you asked for is on their way—they should be here soon.”

Vivienne’s heart skipped a beat. But then she realized—Tyler was talking about depression. She forced herself to relax a little.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tyler,” she cried again, grabbing both the analysis and the records and tossing them aside.

“Is this because of what Emilia told you?” she demanded, bristling through her tears. “She’s lying about me!”

Tyler let out a cold, humorless laugh.

“She hasn’t said a word to me about you,” he replied. “In fact, she won’t even talk to me.”

He stared at Vivienne, eyes burning, voice raw with anger.

“What do you take me for, Vivienne?” he demanded. “You think you can lie to me? Manipulate me?”

Because of Vivienne’s pitiful act—her fake depression—he’d ignored all the things she’d done to hurt Emilia.

He’d even enabled her.

Again and again.