Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 649

One hour earlier.

Cynthia had rushed to the hospital after getting an urgent call from the survivor's wife.

"What happened?" she asked, stepping into the ICU.

The survivor, a man named Weber, weakly wiped tears from his bruised face.

He had regained consciousness yesterday, but due to severe muscle atrophy, it took until today for him to speak cohesively.

His voice cracked as he forced the words out. "Someone... someone grabbed us. Locked us in a cabin up in the mountains. They tried to force us to hand over the audio file."

"When he stepped out to make a call, we made a run for it. But... he chased us down in an SUV and plowed right through us."

His wife squeezed his hand, silently sobbing at his bedside.

"What audio file?" Cynthia pressed gently. "How does this connect to everything else?"

Weber took a rattling breath. "From the backstage hallway at Voice of the Divine. It was a recording of Vivienne threatening Serena."

"The timing was perfect for a scandal. My boss figured we could extort Vivienne for a massive payday, so we reached out and told her we had the tape."

"It's standard industry practice. Paparazzi get dirt, the celebrity pays to bury it. We didn't think it was dangerous. Vivienne was backed by Tyler's billions; a payout was pocket change."

"But then..."

Tears streamed down his pale cheeks. "Someone showed up for the exchange. We were literally counting the cash when they jumped us and threw us in a van."

He broke down completely. He was the sole survivor of a massacre that had left him brain-dead for months.

The raw terror of that night was suffocating.

He had been mere inches from the grave!

Even now, his body was shattered. He faced years of grueling physical therapy with no guarantee of a full recovery.

"Did you get a look at the guy's face?" Cynthia demanded.

The assailant in Emilia's case had been heavily disguised.

The police had interviewed dozens of suspects, but the suspect pool was too vast.

Emilia and Tyler were billionaires with hundreds of enemies and endless connections. Narrowing it down without a face was impossible.

"Not at first. He had a mask on," Weber rasped, squeezing his eyes shut to picture it. "But when we made a break for it, he rushed out to chase us and forgot to pull it back up. I looked over my shoulder and caught a clean look at him."

"Do you know who he is? Can you name him?" Cynthia's pulse spiked.

This was a massive breakthrough. An eyewitness to a professional hitman!

The attacker had demonstrated terrifyingly elite counter-surveillance skills, marking him as a high-level professional. A facial ID was the silver bullet they needed.

She leaned over the hospital bed, practically holding her breath.