Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 550

As Vivienne sang on the live stream, in a dark room somewhere, someone smashed the glass in their hand.

"I can't take it anymore!" the person roared. "Vivienne, I really can't just stand by and watch this!"

Before Vivienne had even finished her song, a post exploded online.

Countless people saw it and were immediately sent into a frenzy.

In an instant, the hashtag #EmiliaCriticallyIll shot to the top of the trending topics.

It was all because of a single post.

The post contained a few photos and a short message.

567: I can't watch anymore, Vivienne. Try and play the victim again! I have real proof. If you continue, I'll release everything!

The post included three pictures.

The first was a critical condition notice for Emilia, though the specific details and date were pixelated.

The second was a photo of Emilia on a gurney.

Under the cold, sterile lights of a hospital corridor, a semi-conscious Emilia was covered in blood. The gurney sheet was soaked through. Her unfocused eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her face streaked with blood and tears.

Beneath her, the pads, the frame of the gurney, the wheels… everything was covered in blood.

The final picture was a shot looking back down the corridor.

It showed a long trail of blood marking the path the gurney had taken.

From the second picture, it was clear that this was Emilia's blood.

The three images were utterly harrowing, almost too shocking to look at.

From the angle of the shots, it was clear they were taken secretly.

The photographer hadn't stayed in one place, either; the pictures were from several different locations.

The post was up for only a short time before it was taken down due to a content review.

When it was reposted, the blood had been colored black, presumably to bypass the automated filters.

But it was too late. Countless users had already taken screenshots and screen recordings of the original post, and they were spreading like wildfire.

"Oh my god, what happened?"

"What happened to Emilia?"

"Why is there so much blood?!"

"Emilia looks like she's dying."

"Is this recent?"

But trying the codes had brought back a flood of memories.

He remembered how haggard Emilia looked on that date every single year.

She never knew that he knew about the grave she had prepared for their child.

Every year, she would drive to the cemetery, all alone. He would pretend not to know and follow her secretly.

Rain or shine, she was always there.

She would bring small clothes and little toys, burning them in front of the tiny grave.

She had never forgotten their child.

It was a shared fixation, an unhealable wound in her heart.

Her pain, her sorrow—it felt like a constant blow to his own heart.

As he leaned against the car, his phone buzzed.

Tyler glanced at it. It was a call from Israel.

He tapped the screen to answer.

"Mr. Erickson, this is bad!" Israel's voice was filled with urgency.