Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 620

A burst of static and muffled background noise filled the stream.

Just as the mob started to think the caregiver was playing a trick on them, Vivienne's voice cut through the noise.

"Did our items get mixed in with the rest?" Her tone was hushed, but the microphone had caught it perfectly.

There was a brief pause, indicating she was on the phone, listening to the person on the other end.

In the atelier lobby, the diehard fans exchanged confused glances.

"What got mixed in?" someone muttered.

"I do not know."

"Shut up, keep listening."

The murmurs died down instantly.

At the exact same moment, Vivienne, watching the stream from her hospital bed, felt the blood drain from her face. She knew exactly what conversation this was.

She knew exactly what was about to play.

Panic seized her. She frantically typed into the livestream chat from her burner account. "It is a trap! Turn off the recording!"

"Stop playing it!"

"Turn it off now!"

But her warnings were swallowed by the flood of comments.

The stream was public, drawing in thousands of neutral onlookers alongside her fans. She was just another faceless user screaming into the void. No one cared.

And she was out of time.

The pause in the audio ended, and Vivienne's voice returned, crystal clear.

"It is fine, just be careful. It is not like we are not donating, we are just making a little profit on the side."

The moment the words registered, the lobby erupted.

They believed she was a saint because she constantly performed acts of kindness.

From her brave death countdown, to her inspirational appearance on Voice of the Divine, to speaking for sick children at the gala, and finally, organizing this massive charity sale. It was the foundation of their devotion.

And now they were being told the charity sale was a grift?

"You are framing her! You faked this!" a woman yelled hysterically.

The caregiver let out a dark, mocking laugh. "It is the raw audio file. If you do not believe me, take it to an expert. Have it authenticated. See if I framed her."

The fans outside were spiraling, desperately grasping for excuses. "Even if it is a charity sale, there are venue costs and overhead. Taking a small cut to cover expenses is totally normal."

The caregiver's fear was rapidly morphing into blinding rage. These people were threatening her life for a woman who despised them.

"A small cut to cover expenses? You people are so pathetic it is almost funny."

She pressed her hands against the cold steel and yelled back. "This entire charity sale had two purposes. One, to clean up her public image. And two, to bleed you dry."